


Rapture and Riddles

by Inamorada



Series: The Bat and the Crow [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vengeful Jonathan, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-08-07 22:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 30,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inamorada/pseuds/Inamorada
Summary: Sequel to "Catch and Release." It has been three months since everything, but with the entry of a new villain, a bed-ridden Batman, and Scarecrow's new toxins, will it work out for Jonathan and Bruce?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> "Catch and Release" was finished as of posting, but "Rapture and Riddles" is to be completed. If you catch a change in writing style near the end, that's where I picked it back up after leaving it for seven years. Please, enjoy.

_Three months later_

"No." Arms crossed petulantly. "I refuse to wear some hand-me-down from the oh-so-generous Bruce Wayne."

Bruce sighed. "Just one night. Unless you have a better suit?"

"You know I don't. I don't see why we can't just go  _buy_ one."

"Because the party starts in two hours and we don't have  _time._ Please put it on. Just for the evening, okay?" Bruce pleaded.

Jonathan shook his head. "I declined your invitation, remember?"

"You  _have_ to come." Bruce held the suit to Jonathan again. "How else will I stay sane?"

"I suggest a good meal before admitting yourself into Arkham. The meal plan is terrible." Jonathan turned around and stalked out of the room.

Bruce was left standing in his bedroom, suit in one hand. He rolled his eyes and sighed, exasperated. He needed the other man to wear his suit for just  _one evening_ while they attended Bruce's annual company party. Jonathan had slipped into his old suit, but when Bruce commented on the many strings and nearly threadbare spots and offered one of his own, Jonathan went on the offensive.

And now he had left.

"Jonathan!" Bruce headed into the hallway.

But the man was nowhere to be seen.

"I believe he went to the library, sir." Alfred stepped from the guest room. "I saw him pass toward it."

Bruce sighed and headed along the hallway. It was true, that when Jonathan was overwhelmed or angered, or both, he invariably found himself in the library, sitting or standing among the shelves.

And it had happened often enough for it to be considered a habit. Every time they argued about Jonathan following Batman into the night, or when Jonathan mentioned working somewhere other than Wayne Enterprises and Bruce demanded to know where he would rather work than beside him, or when Jonathan spent hours mumbling the formulas and recipes for his various toxins to himself.

In the end, it always returned to Batman. Jonathan made a point out of everything- Bruce wanted him to stay at Wayne Enterprises to be by his side but refused to take him into the night. Jonathan recited his recipes so as not to forget them and Bruce wanted to know if the Scarecrow should be in Arkham, away from any temptation.

It made them both wonder just how much they trusted the other.

"Jonathan?"

Silence in the library.

"C'mon, I wasn't trying to insult you." Bruce called out loudly, knowing Jonathan was in there somewhere.

Nothing but silence.

He made his way around the library, but found no sign of his partner. Worry flashed through him- if Jonathan was not here, where else would he hide? Bruce whisked through the remainder of the library before hurrying down the hall back toward the bedroom. Less than two hours and they were not dressed, were not ready, one was missing-

"I was saving it." Jonathan said sullenly as he stepped out of the bedroom, fingers doing the buttons up the front of his white shirt. "Hoping that I could wear it out."

Bruce looked over the perfectly black pants, the white shirt Jonathan had barely begun to button. A jacket lay over one arm.

"Where?" Bruce knew it was a stupid question as soon as it left his mouth, as soon as Jonathan's face darkened.

"Out." Jonathan said shortly, moving to turn away.

But Bruce reached him first, long fingers replacing Jonathan's and doing fine white buttons. Jonathan fought only a moment before his hands fell away, one arm bent to hold his jacket in place.

_I didn't want to tell him until after..._ Bruce looked at Jonathan's sullen face.  _I want him to come with me tonight, but I want it to be a surprise._

"I'll make it worth it." Bruce promised, pressing a kiss to Jonathan's forehead.

"I know what your version of 'worth it' is, Mister Wayne." Jonathan muttered. "Pound me into the mattress again, will you? Or will you change it up this time?"

"No." Bruce said softly. "It'll be something very different this time. Trust me, okay?"

_Trust me._

Jonathan looked to Bruce's face for a moment before stepping away. "Fine."

Jonathan turned and headed down the hallway, slipping into the jacket as he walked.

_Sometimes I wonder why I'm here._ Jonathan fumed.  _I could leave and do as I pleased. Instead I stay here, a caged bird. Or a pretty accessory._

_But I love him._

And sometimes Jonathan hated that fact the most.

He buttoned his jacket slowly, mindlessly making his way to the kitchen. He gave a small smile to Alfred as the latter moved about, preparing glasses of wine and looking over the trays and trays of assorted finger-foods.

"Do you need any help?" Jonathan asked.

Alfred glanced to him. "Only if you are trying to distract yourself, Master Crane."

When the butler looked over Jonathan's face, he said. "I need more wine poured. The glasses... well, you know where they are, sir."

Jonathan nodded and made his way to the cupboard. He filled his thoughts with glass, with crimson wine flowing into clear vessels. Hands moved mindlessly, one glass after another.

He set another to the side and reached for yet another, his mindless movements broken when he heard glass shatter. Blue eyes widened as he immediately looked to the floor when his feet began to grow damp.

"Shit." He said softly, stepping away from the shattered glass.

"It's okay, sir. I will clean it-" Alfred was immediately at his side.

"No, Alfred, I'll clean it." Jonathan took the towel from the butler's hands and knelt. "Don't worry about it."

Jonathan sopped up the red liquid quickly, laying the towel on the floor to gather the rest. Slender fingers gripped shards of glass delicately.

"Jonathan? What are you doing?"

He saw Bruce's feet before he saw anything else. The man crouched down next to him, worry on his face. Jonathan glanced at him before picking the remaining glass up, laying the pieces in one hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern.

"I'm fine." Jonathan said smoothly as he took a hold of the towel in his free hand and stood. Bruce stood with him.

Bruce went to take the towel from Jonathan and dispose of the mess, but the latter turned from him before he had the chance. A glance revealed Alfred looking at them both with a knowing, yet all-too pitying expression. Bruce looked away immediately, not wanting to think about the connotations of Alfred's almost worried gaze.

Jonathan dumped the glass in the trash before going to Alfred. "Will this wash out?"

"Undoubtedly, Master Crane." Alfred gave him a smile. "Why don't you go change your socks and I'll finish this?" He took the wet towel from the other's hands.

A nod was all the man needed in reply before he exited the kitchen, towel in one hand. Jonathan passed Bruce as he, too, went into a hallway.

"Hey."

He heard Bruce but chose not to stop. They would end up at the same destination anyway, and his sock was uncomfortably wet.

"I'm sorry."

_It's always apologies._

"For what now?"

"I didn't mean to insult you." Bruce said softly, walking two paces behind his partner.

"Then what did you mean to do?" He asked, honestly curious.

Bruce took a breath. "Tonight is the first night you appear in front of everyone. I want them to see what I see, not a Scarecrow." A deeper breath, then he continued. "Only Fox really knows you work with me at Wayne Enterprises."

"I can easily work elsewhere." Jonathan entered the bedroom and immediately toed out of his socks.

"I want you close by." Bruce knew the argument by now.

"And yet you demand I stay behind every night? It's been three months, Bruce."

Bruce walked up to Jonathan, hands gently resting on the man's arms. Jonathan stood perfectly still as Bruce's eyes roved over the slightly-pink scar gracing Jonathan's throat.

_I guess I have to tell him, unless I want him to be miserable all night-_

"Sirs?" Alfred stepped into the doorway. "May I remind you we are running low on time?"

Jonathan looked to the butler. "We'll be right there, Alfred."

"Very well."

The psychiatrist looked back to Bruce as Alfred left their sight. "I can't sit here like an ornament. " A hesitant breath, then "I was always so busy. Working with patients, perfecting a formula. Always planning. Do you understand why this isn't going to work?"

"I know." Bruce said softly. "I promise, after tonight it'll be better."

"Can you promise that?"

"Yes."

Jonathan cocked his head. "I hope so."

_Otherwise I don't know how I can stand it here, whether I love him or not._


	2. Chapter Two

"Welcome." Bruce smiled broadly. "I'm so glad you could make it."

Jonathan hid in the shadows near the door, watching as Bruce enthusiastically greeted each guest. He watched as Bruce kissed hands, hugged bodies, pressed lips mindlessly against cheeks. Jonathan crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

Whatever Bruce had planned after this had better be worth it.

A yawn built up in his but he squashed it, not wanting his cover to be blown quite yet. He and Bruce had decided earlier it would be best if Jonathan did not appear until he was on the arm of the Wayne heir. Said heir was worried about the reaction of those around them, but refused to hide Jonathan away in spare rooms and darkness. Tonight it was time for Jonathan to be back in his spotlight.

If worst came to worst, the company members would simply pass it off as playboy Bruce Wayne's antics growing one step more extreme. He worked his way through the world of models and actresses. Perhaps it was time for ex-Arkham inmates.

Jonathan rolled his eyes as yet another woman gushed to Bruce about his home, his looks, his...everything. Bruce smiled and shooed her along as more guests entered. That was when Jonathan slipped away, passing unnoticed into the hallway and bee-lining it to the kitchen.

It was, as he expected, empty. Alfred was in the other rooms, checking on the glasses and plates, keeping everything full. Jonathan sat at the table, staring down rows upon rows of crimson-filled glasses. He debated only a moment before taking and sipping one.

"Need something more than that, sir?"

Jonathan turned his head as Alfred walked in. "I might."

Alfred nodded understandingly. "Although I am positive Master Wayne would prefer a sober man by his side tonight...I'm sure one won't hurt."

"What's tonight, Alfred?" Jonathan took a sip.

A smile crossed the man's face. "I will not say what it is, sir, only that I am certain you will appreciate it."

Jonathan threw back his head and finished the glass. He set it on the table as a bottle of what looked to be tequila landed beside it.

"Do exercise restraint, Master Crane." Alfred advised with a knowing smirk.

"Right." he muttered to himself, watching Alfred lay cheeses out on yet another tray. The man must possess endless patience.

"Enjoy yourself tonight, Master Crane." were Alfred's parting words.

Jonathan scoffed to himself. Three shots later, he was wondering if Alfred had meant more than he let on. The butler always seemed to know more than it appeared- Bruce  _had_ promised something new. If it had nothing to do with the bed sitting in their room, it was incredibly likely Alfred knew what it was.

"Are you here?"

Bruce's worried face peered into the room. "Finally."

Jonathan glanced up at him, tempted to ask about his plans. On one hand he desperately wanted to know. On the other, he just did not care.

"You have to save me." Bruce said dramatically. "Alyson just arrived."

A blank stare reminded Bruce that not everyone knew the names of every widower in Gotham City. He opened his mouth to explain just who the damn woman was when Jonathan interrupted him.

"It doesn't matter who she is." Jonathan said smoothly. "All that matters is that she's bothering you."

One eyebrow rose at the strangely compassionate tone in Jonathan's voice. A glance at the bottle and glass in front of Jonathan gave Bruce a pretty good idea why the psychiatrist was not at his throat again.

"Maybe you should stop drinking for now." Bruce said gently.

A sharp look made Bruce wonder if now was the time to press his luck. "Why?"

"I have plans for tonight that involve you being entirely sober." Bruce explained patiently.

"Mhm."

Bruce pleaded. "Please. I really don't want you to miss it."

"'What?" Jonathan questioned.

"It's a surprise." Bruce said softly.

_Then how do I know if it's worth it?_

But Jonathan made to move to grab the bottle as Bruce took it in hand. The other hand lifted the glass from the table and moved it to the sink. He tucked away the bottle before returning to the man watching him carefully.

"Come on then." Bruce reached for the other's hand. "Ready?"

Jonathan swallowed. He gingerly set one hand in Bruce's palm. He stood as Bruce pulled, the psychiatrist pulled straight into Bruce's arms. Bruce let goo of his hand in favor of embracing the smaller man tightly.

"We won't be out there long." Bruce promised.

"And you'll sneak away by telling them what, that it is time for me to take my medication?" Jonathan questioned bitterly.

Bruce sadly pressed a kiss to Jonathan's forehead. "No. I have a plan."

_What happened?_ Bruce kissed Jonathan's cheek before pulling back, hand slipping back around Jonathan's. "Let's go."

Jonathan walked a step behind Bruce, hand in hand. When they approached the main room, Bruce drew Jonathan forward to wrap an arm around his waist.

"Bruce! Who is your... guest..." A man approached, smile growing then falling.

Fox was at their side immediately, shaking Bruce's hand and grinning. "Good evening, Mr. Wayne."

"Mr. Fox." Bruce dipped his head with a smile.

Jonathan had never been nervous around a crowd before. He had dealt with court-rooms, classrooms, psych wards, and everything in between. He had never dealt with a sea of faces looking at him as if they were all going to fight each other to be the one at his throat.

_I guess no one forgets. Not even in Gotham._ Jonathan glanced to Bruce.

"This is Jonathan." Bruce told the crowd unnecessarily. As if there was someone who did not know his name. "He's my guest and my... partner."

"Quite a commitment." Fox murmured to Bruce. Only Jonathan heard, the crowd too busy or far away to hear the quiet words.

"Even if you do eventually... leave him," Mr. Fox lowered his voice, trying to keep it from Jonathan and failing, "the image of the Scarecrow on the arm of Bruce Wayne is not something they will forget."

"I don't plan on leaving him anywhere." Bruce replied firmly.

Jonathan inched closer to Bruce, pressing into his side. He stared at Fox curiously.

"Good luck." Fox nodded with a quick smile to Jonathan before turning away.

Bruce stepped further into the room, pulling Jonathan with him. He smiled at people as they made their way through the crowd.

"Mr. Wayne..." an executive stepped forward bravely. "Have you considered how this will look for Wayne Enterprises? I mean, a loony from Arkham?"

Bruce stared at him solidly. "Wayne Enterprises is open to everything, Mr. Burns. And everyone. Especially those trying to find a successful place in society after rehabilitation."

Mr. Burns looked sufficiently humbled for only a moment. Then- "But, have you considered-"

"Let a man have his fun." Bruce grinned lopsidedly. "Everything passes, you know that."

_Don't take me seriously, Jonathan._

By the stoney look on Jonathan's face, it was obvious he did not know Bruce as the company knew him. Bruce quickly scooted them away from the executive, away from the others, ducking into a hallway.

"Hey." Bruce murmured. "That's not me out there."

"It looks like you." Jonathan muttered.

"Would I have hosted this party and brought you in front of everyone if I wasn't planning on keeping you?" Bruce asked seriously, trying to portray his commitment to Jonathan.

"Keep?" Jonathan frowned. "Am I a pet, now?"

"No, no," Bruce went to speak, but Jonathan cut him off.

"Is that why I'm not allowed to go out at night?" Jonathan hissed.

Bruce sighed. "Listen."

"I'm tired of listening." Jonathan's gaze met Bruce's. "When you have nothing new to say."

"I have a mask for you." Bruce murmured. "I had to wait until it was finished to tell you."

Blue eyes stared blankly. "You have a mask?"

Bruce nodded. "I made it for you so that you can come with me."

"Is it mine?" Jonathan questioned. "It looks like-"

"It's as close to yours as I could make it." Bruce promised.

They stood wordlessly. They listened to the crowds close by, the party having something new to talk about. Jonathan stared at Bruce.

_Is this what he meant?_

"Can I see it?" Jonathan finally asked.

Bruce nodded. He gripped Jonathan's hand and led him down the hallway. Jonathan sped up, anxious to see it was real, that Bruce was not simply trying to appease him  _again._ Three months was long enough to experience false appeasement again and again.

But then they stood in their bedroom, Bruce searching his cupboard until he pulled out a box and handed it to Jonathan.

"Here."

Jonathan stared at Bruce before looking to the box in his hands. He sat on the bed and set the box in his lap, opening it slowly. He stared in at the light brown burlap before reaching in and pulling it out. He held it up and looked it over with a wry smile.

Yes, he supposed that it looked close to his old one. As close as someone bent on harassing him time any time he wore it would remember it, at least. One hand slipped inside and eyebrows raised. He could not name the lining, only knew that it was softer than anything he had in his old. A frown tugged at his lips at the lack of an air filter.

But then, he was not supposed to be involved with toxins anymore.

He fingered the burlap as he looked up to Bruce. "When did you do this?"

"Over the past month."

Jonathan smiled at the man, the first truly happy smile Bruce had received in some time. Bruce knelt on the floor before Jonathan, hands covering the ones sitting on the mask.

"Tonight?" Jonathan asked quietly.

"Yeah." Bruce promised. "As soon as we get rid of the guests."

"How?" Jonathan looked to Bruce.

Bruce smiled. "I'll be right back."

Jonathan watched him go before looking to his suit. Maybe it had been the perfect night for Bruce to insist on a fine suit. Not that Jonathan would ever admit it, of course.

"Where is your guest?" was the first question shouted to Bruce as he entered the room.

"I'm afraid I didn't appreciate your reaction to Jonathan." Bruce slid his hands into his pockets. "I'd like it if you would all just  _go."_

Blank faces stared at him. Some had been at the mansion's first demise, had stood in the same positions as Bruce demanded they leave before burning his home to the ground.

They were the ones who left first.

Whispers spread through the room much like the fire had. Bruce stood and watched as groups disappeared.

Fox approached slowly. He stood close to Bruce, murmuring. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Bruce replied solemnly. "Me too."


	3. Chapter 3

Scarecrow crouched instinctively, Batman's cape wafting over him. Annoyance flashed through him as he watched Batman wrestling with the mob member. Fingers played with his other wrist, feeling naked without a canister. He would have no problem with these thugs of Gotham.

It was harder to hide the Scarecrow side of him with a mask on, out in the night, watching Batman pummel thieves and murderers and rapists. Jonathan did not even bother trying overly hard. It felt so good to be back out in the city, wind whipping across his face as he followed Batman passed the now-trussed up man, heading to the edge of the building.

"Hold on."

It was easier to move around when a Bat gripped you, glided from one roof to the next. Even Scarecrow had to admit that. His mask his a crooked smile as they landed neatly on the next building.

"C'mon." he growled.

Scarecrow followed wordlessly, looking around, absolutely fascinated.

"Watch your step!" It was Bruce's worried voice that called out, not the Bat's.

A strong arm wrapped around the Scarecrow's waist. Blue eyes widened as he looked down and saw how close he had drifted to the edge of the building. Batman pulled him back, pressing Scarecrow close to himself.

"It's beautiful." Scarecrow said absently.

"What is?" Batman growled in his ear.

"The city." Scarecrow murmured, almost to himself. "The lights."

Scarecrow stood perfectly still as arms wrapped around him, gloved hands resting comfortably on his waist. "I suppose you lose track of that when you know what lives here." Scarecrow chuckled and nodded in the general direction of Arkham. "And what sits over there."

"So remind me." Bruce's voice whispered against his mask.

Scarecrow turned his head, brilliant blue eyes looking out from behind burlap. "As long as you don't lock me back in the manor."

"When you look so beautiful out here?" Batman smiled.

Fingers pulled Jonathan's collar away from his neck, lips pressing against the revealed flesh. Jonathan tilted his head, hesitantly staying still when a hand began to pull off his mask.

"Bruce..." he hesitated.

"No one's here." Bruce murmured.

"Not as though there is anyone who does not know who the Scarecrow is." he smiled as his face was revealed to Bruce. The smile fell. "Won't people wonder why the Scarecrow chases around the Batman when I am involved with you?"

Bruce hesitated.  _I wasn't thinking about..._

Jonathan stared at the emotionless mask beside his head. Bruce finally murmured. "I didn't think about it."

"I don't want to give you away." Jonathan murmured. "We would have to get a cell in Arkham together."

_That might truly drive me insane._ The thought made Jonathan frown.  _Such close contact permanently..._

He shook his head. They were not going to Arkham. Bruce was not going to affect his sanity.

"Later." Jonathan smoothly took his mask from Batman and slid it onto his head. He disengaged, stepping away from the Bat and continuing to look around.

"Let's go back." Batman growled.

Scarecrow looked to Batman. "Already?" He asked, only slightly incredulous.

"I need you."

Scarecrow thought he heard the words but was not sure, they passed by so quickly. "We're coming back tomorrow."

"And every night after."

Scarecrow wrapped himself around Batman much as he had months ago, when the Bat and Bruce were still different people, and Joker and Harley were out of Arkham. He held on tightly, head on Batman's shoulder.

"Let's go." Scarecrow whispered.

Jonathan leaned against the wall, blankly staring out into the room, water dripping down his back. He listened to the shower as Bruce finished. He glanced at the door, just to be certain it was closed. It had only been five minutes since he left the shower- he knew Bruce would be a while yet. They may have started out together, but Bruce took too long for Jonathan to stand under the spray and wait.

Instead he spread on the bed comfortably.  _I want to go back out._

He had not been lying when he said the city looked beautiful by night. Perhaps only ever staying in Arkham and the Narrows had affected his idea of nighttime. Night was full of gunshots and howls of pain, cries of insanity and hallucinations.

But it was also so full of light.

And Bruce.

Jonathan frowned. Bruce.

Would the billionaire demand now that Jonathan remain at Wayne Enterprises because he had brought him out into the night? Was he hoping that Jonathan would be more complacent now that he had what he wanted?

Jonathan sighed. When did he grow so paranoid?

The answer was easy.

_A month ago._

He leaned against the wall and sank into the mattress. He did not normally push unpleasant thoughts into the back of his mind, much preferring to deal with any issues before they had a chance to grow.

But he hated to think about the argument that had sent Jonathan walking out into the streets, wandering until he found a taxi to take him to Wayne Manor, scrounging in his pockets for the money, feeling deep and bitter shame as the driver glared at him in distaste as he did so.

_Didn't Bruce learn anything?_

Jonathan sighed and slipped under the covers. He listened as the shower stopped, knowing it would only be a few minutes before Bruce walked into the room.

Covers were pulled up over his chest as he lay and stared at the ceiling. He listened to the bathroom door open, to Bruce's surprisingly heavy footsteps. The bed dipped as weight settled beside Jonathan.

Jonathan looked to the naked man, watching as a final few stray water droplets ran down his throat.

"We can go out earlier tomorrow." Bruce promised.

Jonathan did nothing as Bruce captured his lips. Warm hands held his face gently, holding Jonathan close to him.

But if nothing else, Jonathan loved having a warm bed all night.

"We better." Jonathan warned.

"Or?"

Bruce should have known better than to goad him, should have remained silent or, even better, said "definitely" or some other affirmative response.

Jonathan pulled away from Bruce, barely able to keep disgust from creeping onto his face. "Is it really so important to you that you control every bit of my life?"

Bruce looked guilty for a moment. He shook his head and Jonathan took the opportunity to speak.

"I found a position at the Gotham City Library that I thought of looking into." Jonathan said firmly. "They have a history archival system and need someone to help sort through all the information and help the public when people come to use the information."

"If that's what you want to do." Bruce murmured.

"It is." Jonathan felt a small thrill of victory.

"Alright." Bruce said quietly. "Do you want to stop for an application tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

Bruce pressed a kiss to Jonathan's throat.  _I've been too worried about keeping him close that I've begun to push him away. So scared that Scarecrow would creep into his thoughts and whisk him away._

"We'll stop then." Bruce promised.

"Good."

Only then did Jonathan allow himself to melt against the other man. Hands, ever-surprisingly soft, smoothed over his skin. He did not think he would ever not be surprised at the lack of callouses on the hands of a man who went out every night to fight madmen.

Not that he was complaining.

Bruce felt the exact moment that Jonathan let himself go, fingers digging into Bruce's arms, flesh instinctively pressing into his.

_How long has it been?_

Lips pressed to Jonathan's bared throat.  _I've done such a wonderful job of pushing him away..._

One hand pulled the covers away from Jonathan, throwing them toward the foot of the bed. Jonathan moved up into Bruce's lap, light smile dancing over his lips.

Jonathan's hands sat lightly on the back of Bruce's head. He nestled against him, Bruce more than happy to draw him close.

They both froze as a knock came on the door.

"Master Wayne!"

Bruce groaned. "Yes, Alfred?"

"I thought you might appreciate knowing that Mr. Gordon's signal to you has been in the sky for over forty minutes now." Alfred said politely. "I put on the GCN to see if it is serious..."

"And?"

"May I suggest going too speak with Mr. Gordon, sir?"

Bruce looked to Jonathan. The latter's face fell a bit but he nodded and slid from Bruce's lap.

"I'll go."

"Very good, sir. Shall Master Crane be going with you?"

"I'll stay in the shadows." Jonathan looked to Bruce. "He won't even know I'm there."

Bruce hesitated. "Alright. If you're going to help me you should hear what he has to say."

Jonathan pressed a kiss to Bruce's cheek as they stood.

"Let's go then." Jonathan glanced out the window. He was going back out.


	4. Chapter 4

"Does this make any sense to you?" Gordon held out a bag. "It was taped to the main door this morning. Luckily I was the first one in."

Batman took the bag in hand. Inside was a slip of paper, green writing scrawled across it. He pressed the plastic flat, trying to read the lacy words.

Scarecrow crouched behind the broken spotlight, in the shadows, away from both Gordon and Batman. He stared at Batman's back in interest, yearning to see the paper in his hands. He knew Bruce would show it to him later, but he did hate having to wait.

"Only here cats see my penance and those who revere me?" Batman growled.  _The hell?_

"That's what I read, too." Gordon agreed. "But it's hard to make out."

"I'll take care of it." Batman promised.

"If you need anything.." Gordon left off.

Batman nodded. He turned and stepped up next to the dead light. As he passed by, Scarecrow crept along the rooftop. They met at the edge, Scarecrow automatically grabbing onto Batman as the latter stepped up to the edge of the roof. He glanced to Scarecrow before leaping from the building.

It was somewhat tricky in the beginning, re-adjusting for the extra weight. But now it was simply a part of him.

He landed gently on the ground next to the Tumbler. Scarecrow disentangled himself, feet gingerly landing on the ground. Batman gave an uncharacteristic smile as the Tumbler opened and they clambered in.

"Here." Batman handed the bag to Scarecrow as they settled. "What can you make of it?" The growl dropped from his voice as the Tumbler closed, a firm shell around them.

Scarecrow became Jonathan Crane again as he slipped the mask from his head to more easily read the paper. Batman began to drive back to his caves as Jonathan squinted at the paper.

"Hm." Jonathan mused. "Only...here..."

Batman nodded. "That's what I thought-"

"Can..." Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows. "I see my... prison..."

"That's not what I read."

" And those who... fear me." Jonathan finished. "I'll look at it again at Wayne Manor, but I think that is what it says."

"It makes more sense than cats." Batman admitted.

Jonathan nodded. "Certainly."

_I will solve this._ Jonathan stared at the paper.  _Then he cannot lock me in our home._

Jonathan leaned back, reveling in the warmth from the fire Alfred had prepared before their arrival. He stared at the plastic in hand, reading the words again and again.

_Cats? Did he really read cats in here?_ He tried to see it, failed.

Bruce walked in, hiding a yawn behind one hand. "Are you coming?"

Jonathan looked up. "In a moment. Come here first."

Bruce obeyed, sitting close to Jonathan on the sofa. "What is it?"

"Read this for me."

"Only here cats see my penance and those who revere me." It seemed even more ludicrous the second time he said it.

Jonathan shook his head. "No, no, look." He began tracing over the script. "Only here is right , but then we have can." His finger traced the letter twice, looking earnestly to Bruce.

"Okay." Bruce concurred. "And the rest?"

Jonathan slowly traced the remaining words. "Do you see it?"

"You have a better eye than me." Bruce admitted. "I only see it when you point it out."

Jonathan stared at the slip.  _I'm certain that is what is says... but what does it mean?_

"Do you think it's anything serious?" Bruce questioned. "It could even simply be a joke."

"You remember the  _Joker's_ jokes, don't you?" Jonathan questioned.

Bruce had no reply. He wrapped an arm around Jonathan, pulling him close.

"It can wait until morning." Bruce whispered. "We can work on it on the way to your library."

_My library._

It had a nice sound to it. Jonathan set the plastic aside, leaning into Bruce's grasp. He tilted his head back, smiling at the older man.

"I think you're right."

The library would be yet another small freedom. He went out into the night, he could work at the library... Perhaps being apart would bring them back together.

Jonathan covered his yawn with a hand, leaning his head on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce tightened his arm around him, chin resting in Jonathan's hair. Jonathan pressed up against him, tucking himself neatly into Bruce's embrace.

"We can go to bed." Bruce suggested.

Jonathan mused for a moment, glancing at the watch on his wrist.  _It's not overly late..._

"Okay."

They disentangled and stood. Bruce slipped his hand around Jonathan's, leading him along the hallway. Jonathan glanced around for Alfred but saw no sign. He found that the butler had been awake waiting for them less and less over the months. It was no surprise to him now that he could not see the man.

Bruce pushed the bedroom door shut and rested a hand on Jonathan's hip. The smaller of the two turned to look back at him, small smile dancing about his lips. Jonathan turned entirely in Bruce's light grasp, pressing the elder to the door and pushing against him. Soft lips fastened themselves to Bruce's.

Jonathan's fingers tangled in Bruce's clothes, torn between tearing them off and simply staying put. Bruce solved the issue, his own hands reached between their bodies to undo Jonathan's pants. Jonathan pulled back, real smile lighting his face now. He pulled Bruce's shirt over his head, mindlessly throwing it aside.

Blue eyes grew wide in surprise as Bruce yanked him up into his arms. The latter carried Jonathan to the bed, lightly tossing him down onto the mattress before following.

Jonathan practically grinned as Bruce hurriedly rid them of all other clothing. "No distractions this time." Bruce growled the promise into Jonathan's ear.

Jonathan shivered. The voice was that of the Bat's, but the body of Bruce in his arms. He could learn to appreciate the duality. He watched as Bruce moved to align the pillows before laying back, leaning comfortably against the wall.

"Come here." Bruce beckoned.

The other obeyed, crawling towards the waiting man. He moved wordlessly into Bruce's lap, legs spread over top of him.

_Something different._

Bruce looked over Jonathan's face. "Is this okay?"

He easily remembered Jonathan's earlier comment about how Bruce made issues up to him. It had made him think. Perhaps it was time for changes.

Jonathan nodded. He hesitated a moment, staring into Bruce's eyes, before reaching one hand to his mouth, tongue laving stickily over fingers. Then it was moving south, reaching between his legs. The other darted forward to anchor onto Bruce's shoulder.

Bruce swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly too dry. He watched Jonathan prepare himself, occasional mild winces of streaking across his face and disappearing. Jonathan kept his gaze the entire time.

Then both hands were on Bruce's shoulders and Jonathan was resting fully in his lap, brilliant blue eyes screwed shut. Bruce watched sweat collect on Jonathan's skin, lightly shining in the dim.

When Jonathan went to move, Bruce gripped his hips tightly. Blue eyes opened questioningly, staring indignantly at Bruce.

"Wait a moment." Bruce murmured. "Don't hurt yourself."

"It is nothing." Jonathan dismissed it, but still could not move. Bruce held him still.

"Please." Bruce said softly. "Don't hurt yourself."

Jonathan's eyes flashed hot. "Let me move, Bruce."

Bruce saw the raw need etched onto Jonathan's face. The psychiatrist may have thought he was hiding the pure want on his face, but Bruce saw it clearly. Against his better judgment, his hands loosened. Jonathan immediately threw himself into movement with fervor.

"Oh, Jonathan..."

Jonathan was not sure of the exact moment when Bruce's voice fell away and Batman's slipped in. It was the first time he heard the voice in bed since the very first time- Bruce had always been so careful to hide Batman when they were together in this way.

He could hardly complain. Perhaps because Jonathan had been by Batman's side all evening, Batman was here in bed now. No, it was only Bruce with Batman's voice... but perhaps someday it really would be Batman beside him.

Jonathan later would not remember that he came first, spilling over their stomachs. He would know that Bruce gripped his hips tightly enough to leave bruises- he would see the purples later, stark against white. He would not care.

At the time, when he slid off of Bruce and felt the proof the latter's enjoyment dripping and slip-sliding down his thighs, he knew he saw the shadow of Alfred's feet beneath the bedroom door. The shadow stared there only a moment before quietly going away. Jonathan wondered what the man could want, but decided not to care when Bruce pulled him down beside him and held him tightly to his chest. Jonathan reached out to switch off the lamp and chose not to tell Bruce about the butler. He closed his eyes and almost immediately drifted into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Jonathan was not certain if Alfred looked at him strangely in the morning or not. The psychiatrist was awake before Bruce, standing in the kitchen by the stove, methodically cracking eggs into a bowl. He glanced up as Alfred walked into the room, watching as the man stopped. A moment later the elderly man walked up to Jonathan.

"Will those be for Master Wayne, as well, sir?" Alfred asked, a touch of  _something_  in his voice.

"Yes." Jonathan nodded.

"Would you please tell Master Wayne I must go into Gotham today, sir?" Alfred continued.

"Of course." Jonathan nodded.

"Thank you."

Jonathan watched the man exit before continuing with his eggs. He stirred them with a quick hand, pouring them into the pan on the stove. He turned up the heat slightly before reaching into the cupboard for bread. He opened the plastic wrapping, pulled out slices, and returned the rest. He slid the pieces into the toaster before returning to the stove.

_What is on his mind?_ Jonathan wondered.

"Mm, are you making breakfast?"

He looked over as Bruce slouched into the room, sweat pants barely clinging to his hips. He wore nothing else. Bruce stepped up to Jonathan, wrapping his arms around him, hands landing gently on Jonathan's stomach. Jonathan pressed back into the soft touch, smiling as Bruce's chin rested on his shoulder.

"It'll be a few minutes." Jonathan stirred the eggs slowly.

Bruce held on tighter. "I can wait."

Jonathan nodded slightly, watching the stove almost lazily. He leaned back into Bruce's embrace, mild smile curving his lips.

"Alfred is going out." Jonathan murmured softly.

Bruce let out a small affirmative noise. He nuzzled Jonathan's shoulder, eyes closed. Jonathan's smile grew, a sincerely contented smile as Bruce's hands smoothed over his skin.

"I'm cooking." Jonathan murmured.

"Go ahead." Bruce whispered.

Jonathan blinked as Bruce's hand slid under his shirt. "Alfred may still be here."

"I caught him on his way out the door." Bruce whispered. "He's not here."

Jonathan released an incredibly soft moan as Bruce forced a hand into Jonathan's pants. Jonathan fidgeted, hand still stirring the pan of eggs, as one long finger delved between his legs and pressed against the fabric of his boxers where he had entered him only last night.

"I'm trying to cook." Jonathan shot a look over his shoulder. Bruce gave him a lazy smile.

"Come on." Bruce murmured. "Alfred's out. We might not have this chance for a while again."

"Chance for what?" Jonathan asked, half-knowing the answer.

Jonathan stirred the eggs with a vengeance as Bruce began pulling down the former's pants. Jonathan forced his sticky-spit down his throat, heart thudding against his chest.

"Bruce..." Jonathan said uncertainly.

"Shhh." Bruce whispered in his ear. Jonathan shivered as hot breath warmed him.

Jonathan swallowed again, hand going to turn off the stove. When Bruce chuckled behind him, he decided against it and continued with the eggs. He was thankful they were almost done.

Blue eyes closed for a moment as Bruce kissed the back of his neck. The billionaire made his way down, kneeling down behind Jonathan. White teeth bit at a pink lip as Jonathan tried to concentrate only on the pan in front of him.  _So close to being done._

"Spread your feet, Jon." Bruce murmured.

Jonathan's legs trembled as he slid his feet apart. His free hand clutched onto the counter. He looked down at Bruce, blue eyes curious.

"What're you doing?" His voice was softer than he intended, more apprehension than he ever wanted.

Bruce did not speak but rested warm hands on Jonathan's thighs. Jonathan stilled, unmoving as Bruce's head dove between his legs.

"Oh.." Jonathan breathed. "Oh."

Warm wetness lapped at his entrance, pushing in and pulling out, sliding over top.

_What is Alfred walks in?_ The fear filled Jonathan.

"Bruce, w-wait..." he stuttered.

"What's wrong?" Bruce pulled back.

"Not... not here." Jonathan begged.

He stirred the eggs.

Bruce stood, face twisted in concern. He looked over the tense expanse of Jonathan's back, the white grip his hand had on the whisk.

"Hey." Bruce murmured. "Turn around."

Jonathan shook his head. A firm hand gripped his, pulling his fingers from the whisk. It fell against the side of the pan as Bruce pulled away Jonathan's hand. Bruce gripped Jonathan's sides and turned him around.

Blue eyes stared down, away from Bruce's gaze. "Jonathan." Bruce whispered.

Jonathan glanced up but looked back away.  _Why does he want to do this now?_ Jonathan wondered.  _All the months I've been here... and now he wants-_

"I'm sorry." Bruce whispered.

Lips pressed to Jonathan's forehead. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Jonathan muttered. "We're in the kitchen, Bruce. I can't..."

"I'm sorry." Bruce whispered again.

Jonathan finally met his gaze. "I..." he faltered.

"Yes?" Bruce prompted.

"I didn't dislike...it." Jonathan swallowed. "But we're in the  _kitchen."_

Bruce smiled lightly. "So if we moved..."

No answer. Bruce crouched down and pulled up Jonathan's pants. He led the younger man into the next room, sitting invitingly on the couch.

"Alfred could still-" Jonathan looked to the window.

"He's in the city." Bruce pulled Jonathan down into his lap. "He'll be there all day."

Jonathan hesitated but nodded. He did not fight as Bruce pushed him back into the couch. Blue eyes closed as Bruce spread his legs, already returning to his prize.

Gasps escaped as Bruce continued his ministrations. With his eyes closed, Jonathan could forget that they were no longer in their bedroom. The soft cushions at his back were reminiscent of their bed, so much better than the counter. Jonathan felt himself relax into the couch as Bruce's fingers crept around his cock, slip-sliding neatly along his flesh. His other hand joined his tongue.

The smell of burn met Jonathan's nose. Blue eyes flew open and he sat up, knocking Bruce from between his legs.

"Your eggs!" Jonathan cried. "I didn't turn off the stove!"

Bruce rolled his eyes, but Jonathan did not see. The psychiatrist was already rushing into the kitchen. Bruce leaned back in the couch, waiting with only one roll of his eyes. Jonathan walked in, shoulders slumped, plate in hand.

"Sorry." He said quietly.

Bruce looked at the plate and hid all traces of distaste. "It looks fine. You caught it in time." Bruce lied.

The billionaire took the plate in one hand, waiting for a fork. Jonathan, not expecting the man to eat it, did not have one ready.

"You don't have to eat it." Jonathan shook his head.

"It looks good." Bruce lied. "Do you have a fork?"

As Jonathan walked into the kitchen to fetch one, Bruce stared at the plate in distaste. It would not be the worst thing he had ever eaten, only potentially the worst dish in a few years.

Jonathan returned with a fork, handing it wordlessly to Bruce. "When you're done, bring it into the kitchen."

The psychiatrist hid his blush well as Bruce looked him over. A glance down confirmed his suspicions that he had never pulled anything on. He knew Bruce stared blatantly as he walked into the kitchen. Jonathan took a deep breath as he stared at the counter.

Bruce eyed the plate before diving in. He piled the eggs onto the lukewarm toast and shoveled it down his throat. The foul taste of crisp burn filled his mouth but he swallowed. It was his fault, after all.

Jonathan stared the counter down as if he could win their staring contest. When he heard Bruce stand, he glanced over his shoulder before pulling off his shirt.

Bruce stopped still as he turned the corner. He forced himself to take in air as he set the plate on the closest area of the counter. "Jonathan?" He murmured.

"Come on then." Jonathan peered back over his shoulder, hands gripping the counter top tightly. "We do have to leave eventually, you know."

Bruce looked over his over in interest. Jonathan's feet planted on the floor firmly, plenty of space between them. He eyed the obviously tense man as he approached slowly.

"If you don't want-"

"Hurry up." Jonathan demanded. "Before I change my mind."

_I won't give you that chance._ Bruce promised.

Bruce rushed forward, falling to his knees behind Jonathan. He looked up at the sweat-shiny face, blue eyes squeezed shut.

"You'll like it. I promise." Bruce murmured.

Jonathan only nodded.

Bruce slid fingers into his own mouth, liberally coating them in saliva. His other hand tenderly ran up and down Jonathan's leg. Bruce's fingers relocated, one gingerly pressing up into Jonathan. The man tensed only a moment, Bruce staying still but for his hand reassuringly tracing meaningless shapes on his skin.

When the man above him relaxed, Bruce continued slipping in further. Jonathan clutched onto the counter as Bruce moved inside of him. Bruce pressed a kiss next to his disappearing fingers, smiling when pleased noises escaped Jonathan's lips.

Jonathan was surprised by the slow tenderness of the man below. He stood, relaxed, as fingers explored more than he could remember them ever doing. He gasped as they stumbled across his prostate. Bruce immediately gave it his full attention, fingers alternately pressing and gently rubbing. Small pants fell from Jonathan's lips.

Bruce's other hand snuck between Jonathan and the counter, wrapping his fingers around Jonathan's leaking cock.

"Bruce." Jonathan whimpered.

The billionaire mercilessly rubbed and pulled the psychiatrist. Jonathan trembled, eyes squeezed shut. He felt as if he were melting, Bruce learning his body all over again.

With a mumbled shout, Jonathan spilled over Bruce's hand. He pulled in deep breaths, falling back as Bruce stood and wrapped his arms around him. Jonathan looked down at the mess adorning the counter, Bruce's wet hand held in front of Jonathan's stomach. Jonathan could feel Bruce's want pressed into his backside.

"I don't want to go in to work today." Bruce murmured in Jonathan's ear.

"We have to go to the library." Jonathan reminded him.

"Right." Bruce said.

Bruce pulled back, going to the sink to wash his hand. "Go ahead and dress. I'll clean up."

Jonathan took one step toward the door before looking back to Bruce. "Don't you..."

Bruce smiled. "No. Go ahead."

Jonathan hesitated still. "Go." Bruce insisted. "We're gonna be late."

The psychiatrist walked down the hallway with deep paranoia. What would he do if Alfred returned home and saw him, wandering naked through the mansion, traces of his own seed on his thighs?

The thought had him racing down the hall to the bedroom. He ducked inside and immediately went to the bathroom. He ran warm water in the sink, using a small towel to clean his thighs. He soaped quickly before rinsing and turning off the water. He folded the towel and set it on the edge of the sink.

Jonathan stepped into the bedroom and quickly dressed.  _When did I start doing everything he wanted?_

No, that was not exactly true. Not  _everything_ Bruce wanted- only the things that risked ruining Jonathan's dignity or pride. Alfred was one of the very few people who looked at Jonathan and saw more than the Scarecrow riding around Fear Night- what if that was ruined?

Jonathan shook his head.  _What does it matter?_

He fixed his tie and walked out of the room. He stopped as Bruce approached, the billionaire smiling broadly.

"I'll just be a moment." Bruce promised as he passed into the bedroom.

Jonathan nodded. He stepped back into the room and set comfortably on the bed. He watched as Bruce picked out shirt, jacket, and tie. The man dressed swiftly but neatly- obviously born of practice. He smoothed his hair back as he turned to Jonathan.

"Let's head out." Bruce held out a hand.

Jonathan took the offered hand. It was time to visit his library.


	6. Chapter 6

Jonathan nodded as the librarian spoke to him again. He tried to listen, he truly did, but he could not help but look over the books around them. She gestured to the shelves, explaining what he would organize. The history texts looked ancient- but not nearly as old as the carts she showed him next. The paper-filled files looked to be falling apart. An aspect of the job, the librarian explained, would be to type up the information contained in the files and archive them on the computers.

"Are you interested?" She turned to him and asked. "I understand it is a lot."

"And this area is open to the public?" Jonathan looked around the small room. "So I will be assisting people to find the information I archive?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"I am very interested." Jonathan gave her a smile. "Has anyone else looked at the position?"

She hesitated but said. "No one has seemed right. Well..." She looked around the room. "You are sure you will have enough time? No other jobs?"

"I am certain." Jonathan nodded. He knew why she was worried- he had seen the pay offered and for a single man, it would not be enough to live on. "The money isn't an issue."

The librarian released an "Ah." She looked to Jonathan, smile on her face. "Then may I welcome you to your new position, Mr. Crane?"

Jonathan's lips twisted in a smile as he looked around the room. "Thank you."

The librarian looked to the door as it pushed open. Jonathan glanced over to see Bruce walking in, playboy smile gracing his face.

"Well?" He asked jovially.

The librarian went to pass Bruce. "Excuse me, Mr. Wayne." She looked back to Jonathan. "Is tomorrow good to start? I will have to put you in the system tonight."

"That is fine." Jonathan nodded.

She gave Bruce a small smile before slipping past. Bruce crossed his arms and watched in silence as Jonathan wandered around the room.

"Do we have to go?" Jonathan looked to Bruce.

He checked his watch. "Only if we want to be there on time."

Jonathan shrugged. "I no longer work there."

Bruce slid his hands into his pockets. "Well, I suppose if you wanted to go back to Wayne Manor..."

"Then you'll definitely be late." Jonathan shook his head.

"I can call Alfred." Bruce said then. "He's still in town- if you wanted he could take you back with him."

_Alfred._ Jonathan hesitated. "Okay."

Bruce nodded and stepped further into the room. He pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed Alfred. Jonathan gave him a wane smile before looking through the files. Birth certificates, marriage announcements, obituaries...And everything in between.

"The library, Alfred." Bruce was saying.

_I suppose if the man needed anything last night he will bring it up._ Jonathan frowned.  _But what could he have needed that he wouldn't mention this morning? Maybe it's just Bruce he has to talk to._

"Alright." Bruce slid the phone into his pocket. "He'll be here in about twenty minutes. Do you want me to wait?"

Jonathan shook his head. "You don't have to."

"Are you sure?" Bruce asked in concern.

Jonathan nodded. "You're going to be late."

Bruce shrugged. "I didn't even want to go."

The stare Jonathan gave him would have cowed a lesser man. Bruce gave a small chuckle and stepped up to Jonathan. He pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning and hurrying from the room.

Jonathan looked around the room once more before heading into the main library. He passed through slowly, memorizing the layout of the first floor. He debated going up to the second, to the third, the fourth... instead he shook his head and went to the front door. He stepped outside, into the light rain, and waited for Alfred.

"Ready, Master Crane?" Alfred glanced in the mirror to see Jonathan's nod.

Alfred pulled away from the curb and they were on their way to Wayne Manor. Jonathan stared out the window, debating with himself whether or not he should ask Alfred about the previous night.

Alfred beat him to it.

"Sir," Alfred began. "I could not help but notice that you joined Master Wayne on his patrol last night."

Jonathan nodded before remembering Alfred could not see it. "I did."

"May I make a request, sir?" Alfred sounded as though he was going to make it- and expect to find it followed- regardless of Jonathan's answer.

"Of course." Jonathan waited for the request.

"Don't lose yourself."

Jonathan leaned forward in his seat, trying to get as close as possible to the driver's seat from the back. "And what do you mean by that?"

Alfred was silent a moment. "Master Wayne has certainly taken a chance taking you in and then out." Alfred paused, thinking over his next words. "Please don't make him regret it."

Jonathan leaned back. "I won't."

He thought Alfred was done, but- "I expect I will not see the Scarecrow around Wayne Manor."

"You won't." Jonathan promised. "'I'm the only one under the mask."

Alfred said no more, but he had already given Jonathan plenty to think about.


	7. Chapter 7

Jonathan quickly ducked to the bedroom he shared with Bruce upon returning home. Alfred had appeared finished, but one never knew when the man would start back up. Jonathan did not want to risk missing over any fine details, not when his mind was already filled with Alfred's words. Alfred could wait until Jonathan finished mulling over this.

He cocked his head curiously. The blankets were still thrown back, just as they had left them that morning. That was no surprise- Alfred had been out of the manor all day. What was a surprise was what appeared to be books laying beneath the bed.

Jonathan knelt by the bed and reached under. Bruce  _never_ tucked anything under the bed. Alfred always just pulled it back out. So this had to be new.

The psychiatrist gripped and pulled out the first book. His mouth dried as he looked over the very familiar cover. He opened it slowly, just to prove himself right. His gaze met his own tidy scrawl.

_I did wonder..._ Jonathan looked over the toxin recipes in interest.  _I always thought he disposed of them._

Jonathan peered under the bed, counting silently.  _They're all here. But I know they weren't always.. where were they? Why are they here now?_

Jonathan sat up straight and reached into his pocket. His fingers found the phone hiding there. He was still considerably unused to carrying the thing- he had never felt the need to. But Bruce had asked- or demanded- so persistently that Jonathan gave in.

He was thankful for it now.

He pulled it out and began dialing the number he knew went straight to Bruce. He stopped halfway, stared again at his books.

_No. I'll ask in person._

Jonathan pocketed the device again. He pulled out every last book, stacking them neatly on the carpet.

When he heard the first of distant footsteps, he hurriedly pushed them under the bed. He pushed the last one under before quickly standing and making his way into the bathroom. He closed the door and leaned against the wood. Jonathan listened as the footsteps- Alfred- entered the room.

The psychiatrist looked to the side, straight into the mirror.

Tired.

That was the first word to come to mind. After that, pale. Jonathan looked away from the mirror. He listened to the man in the bedroom, listened to the soft rustling as sheets pulled over each other. Moments passed, then footsteps walked out of the room. Jonathan waited only a second more before pushing open the door and stepping into the room.

The bed was back to its pristine state. Jonathan peeked under the bed- the books were untouched. He walked slowly into the hallway. He stopped a moment and listened. He could hear Alfred down the hallway to the right. He went left.

Jonathan stepped lightly through the hallways. He rarely felt like a stranger anymore in Wayne Manor, but sometimes he managed to still be surprised by its roaming halls. Or by the underside of his own bed.

He looked forward to his new position in the library tomorrow, but there was so much to be done before then.

_I hope Bruce is home soon._

Even after months of living with the largest private library he had ever had pleasure in enjoying, the rows and rows of books still amazed him. The library was still his own personal haven. Alfred rarely entered. Bruce only walked in when looking for Jonathan.

He almost felt that it was his and his alone.

And he loved it.

As he walked through the rows of tomes, he tried to figure out what he would say to Bruce. Maybe he would simply lay one of the notebooks on the bed, wait for Bruce to find it on his own, wait for the billionaire to explain away...

Jonathan rather liked the last idea.

He could hardly wait for Bruce to arrive home.


	8. Chapter 8

Jonathan greeted Bruce at the door. Bruce gave him a grin as he shed his light jacket, toeing off his shoes almost mindlessly. Jonathan returned a smile, giving Bruce an almost unexpected embrace. Bruce returned it happily before stepping further into the manor.

"What have you been up to?" Bruce gravitated toward the kitchen.

"Catching up on my reading, mostly." Jonathan answered honestly.

Bruce chuckled. "Catching up? When were you ever behind?"

Jonathan shrugged but did not answer. He followed Bruce into the kitchen. Jonathan leaned against the door frame as Bruce raided the cupboards.

"Alfred is making dinner soon." Jonathan cocked his head.

Bruce glanced over. "I'm sure I won't spoil my appetite."

Jonathan only shrugged. He watched Bruce stare aimlessly into the cupboards before the former sighed and stepped forward. He opened the cupboard beside Bruce and pulled out the box he knew the man was looking for. He watched as Bruce's face lit up marginally.

"It's empty." Jonathan informed him. "You finished them."

He watched as Bruce opened the box and peered in. "So why was it in the cupboard?"

Jonathan shrugged. "It was late. Maybe you didn't notice."

Jonathan walked to Bruce, closing the cupboard gently. "You can wait." Jonathan pressed a soft kiss to Bruce's cheek.

Bruce raised one eyebrow. "I cant decide whether you're in a good or bad mood."

"Can I be in both?" Jonathan smirked. "Come on before Alfred kicks us out anyway."

Bruce set his empty box on the counter and led Jonathan from the kitchen. Jonathan felt his heart beat the tiniest bit faster as they headed for the bedroom. Jonathan remained silent, content to simply follow.

The light flicked on. Bruce stepped in, cocking his head when he saw the arrangement of books spread on the bed. He approached the bed almost cautiously. Jonathan watched, pulling the door shut and standing in front of it. He crossed his arms as Bruce picked up the first book and looked it over.

"Jonathan...?" Bruce turned around. He held up the book. "Where did you..."

"Strange thing." Jonathan said calmly. "I found them under the bed."

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed. "I put them..."

"Where did you hide them, Bruce?" Jonathan questioned.

"The attic." Bruce set the notebook down and looked over the display. "Under the bed...?"

"Yes." Jonathan affirmed.

_Alfred?_ Bruce stared blankly at the books.  _Why would Alfred give Jonathan his toxin?_

"Did you bring them in?" Jonathan asked.

"No." Bruce said honestly. "I don't know why they're here."

Bruce advanced on Jonathan. "Excuse me."

Jonathan stepped aside, so curious. He followed as Bruce headed back for the kitchen.

"Alfred?" Bruce called.

"Yes, sir?" Alfred gave him a small smile.

"Have you been in the attic recently?" Bruce asked casually.

"No, sir." Alfred shook his head. "Not for a week or so now."

Bruce's face showed his confusion. "Oh..."

"Is something the matter, Master Wayne?" Alfred questioned.

Bruce only shook his head. "No. Not at all."

Jonathan stepped back as Bruce made a hasty return to the hallway. This time he began his journey to the attic.

"You didn't bring them down?" Bruce questioned Jonathan.

"No." Jonathan shook his head. "I found them in the bedroom."

Bruce frowned and pushed open the small door leading to his attic. His heart fell just a little when he looked around at the mess. Boxes were pushed randomly everywhere instead of their usual neat appearance. What alarmed his most of all was the state of the small window across the space. It hung open, letting in cool air.

"How..." Bruce immediately hurried over and peered out the window, Jonathan at his shoulder. "How did anyone climb in here?"

Jonathan said quietly. "The same way Joker and Harley climbed into my bedroom."

Bruce cursed under his breath, staring out at the green grass. "Determination." He glanced down. "Or some help."

Jonathan's first thought was that Bruce implied he helped their infiltrator in the manor- after all, Bruce knew Jonathan had left with Joker last time the latter broke in. But then Bruce's hand was wrapped tightly around his own, squeezing reassuringly.

"I'm just glad you weren't here when our visitor was." Bruce said softly.

Jonathan nodded. Though he was  _very_ curious as to who wanted him to have his toxin notes.


	9. Chapter 9

Dinner was a relatively quiet affair. Bruce and Jonathan sat with their thoughts, both minds back in the attic, looking out over the manor grounds, and back in the bed, staring at the piles of notebooks Jonathan had once lovingly filled out.

"Jonathan." Bruce said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" Jonathan looked up from his plate.

Bruce seemed to muse over his next words thoughtfully. "Would it be okay if we put your notebooks back away?"

"Nervous, Bruce?" the words were out before Jonathan could reconsider.

"Maybe." Bruce said honestly. "That depends on you."

Jonathan kept his gaze even with Bruce's. "I have no plans at this moment of creating anything."

_At this moment._ Bruce chose not to point out the few words. He simply nodded, gave Jonathan a smile, and said "I'm glad."

_Where could I even go?_ Jonathan mused as he forked his dinner into his mouth.  _I hardly have a laboratory anymore._

_But Wayne Enterprises does._

Jonathan mentally shook his head. He glanced at Bruce, but the man was engrossed in his own thoughts.

"Do you want to come with me tonight?" Bruce asked. He already knew the answer.

"Of course."

They finished dinner quickly, both anxious to finish the almost-awkward affair. Jonathan followed Bruce to the study tucked away in just another long hallway, listened as the billionaire played discordant notes on a fine piano. Then they stood close to each other on the elevator, descending quickly down into the caves.

Bruce immediately headed for his case, opening it slowly and pulling out his armor piece by piece. Jonathan took his own time- he knew how long it could take Bruce to encase himself in his black skin. Jonathan's own suit lay draped over Bruce's desk chair, still wardrobe-less. Jonathan changed slowly, keeping one eye on Bruce.

_Although my toxin would be an excellent weapon when we go out._

"Ready?" Batman slipped on his cowl and turned to Jonathan.

_I could protect him._ Jonathan slid on Scarecrow's face and nodded. He was thankful Bruce could not see the emotions he could not keep off of his face.

It seemed, to Jonathan, that they were in the city in no time at all. The Palisades always appeared so separate from Gotham during the day, but at night everything was so much closer together.

Scarecrow always kept to the shadows- how much trouble would Bruce find himself in if his lover went gallivanting with Batman every night? Jonathan almost wished he were not so attached to his persona- if he was willing to change it, he would have no problem displaying himself. But until he could...

"Down there." Scarecrow pointed down into the alley.

Batman immediately was off the rooftop, diving down upon the duo in the alley. Scarecrow hung back and watched and Batman pushed away the larger figure, listened to the angered male yells. A woman's voice reached him, panic and so much gratefulness in her voice.

_She sounds like Harley._ The thought was unbidden.  _But she's still in Arkham..._

Scarecrow wished for a moment that the two of them had never had the misfortune of meeting Joker in Arkham. If only Harley had never been his psychiatrist, if only-

"What is the sidekick doing without his leading man?"

He spun in a quick arc. He saw a shadowy figure in the darkness behind him. The voice his from the light, sticking to the other building's shadows.

"Who are you?" Scarecrow asked in a deeper-than-usual voice.

"One hand helping the other." The shadow seemed to shrug. "Even secondary characters need the stage sometime. And you weren't going to do it on your own."

Scarecrow hissed. "You moved my notes."

"Give the man a prize." Sarcastic, now. "Are you saying you didn't appreciate it?"

"What do you want?"

"For us to play a game." The figure moved but still refused to enter the light. "The prize will be..."

Scarecrow stood still, waiting for the figure to finish speaking. He listened to the hysterical voice ringing up from the alleyway.  _When will Bruce come back?_

"Well, let's not give too much away." The figure laughed.

Scarecrow started forward as the shadow moved away. By the time he stood in the dark, the figure was gone.

"What's wrong?"

Scarecrow turned to Batman. "I don't even know."

Batman stood beside Scarecrow. "Did you see something?"

"Someone." Scarecrow nodded. "I don't know who it was, but I think we'll be finding out."

They stood in silence a moment before Scarecrow shook his head. "Let's keep going."

For the remainder of the night, there was no sign of Scarecrow's visitor.


	10. Chapter 10

Jonathan rolled over and threw an arm over his face. "It cannot possibly be time to get up yet."

"It's seven." Bruce murmured. "You can sleep in a little longer, but we have to leave at eight if you want to be on time."

Jonathan grumbled into his pillow. "I'm getting up."

Bruce sat up, leaning against the wall comfortably. He looked down fondly at the man clutching his pillow, still half-asleep. Bruce instinctively reached out one hand to run his fingers through dark hair.

"No you're not." Bruce murmured softly.

He could not make out Jonathan's next words. Then the psychiatrist was staring at him somewhat blankly, Bruce's face blurred without his glasses. Jonathan grumbled but slowly sat up, turning and grabbing his glasses at the same time. He sat beside Bruce, head resting on the latter's shoulder. He tried to bite back a yawn; failed.

Jonathan yawned again and nestled into Bruce's shoulder. "Maybe we should come back earlier next time." Bruce said softly.

"Then I'd only be holding you back." Jonathan shook his head. "I'll adjust."

But when Jonathan tried to hide how his eyes tried to close, body automatically drifting back to sleep against Bruce, Bruce knew they would spent more time in bed the upcoming nights.

"We should get up." Jonathan mumbled.

"Come on then." Bruce said softly.

Neither made the motion to move.

Bruce chuckled softly and slowly went to stand. Jonathan grumbled but threw back the covers. He bit back a yawn as he slid his feet onto the floor and went to stand. He padded across the floor towards the bathroom.

Worry flashed through Bruce as Jonathan nearly stumbled. Hands were immediately on Jonathan's side and elbow, holding the man close. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine." Jonathan shook his head. "I just haven't woken up yet."

Bruce let go and Jonathan successfully made it into the bathroom.

"Sirs, breakfast is on the table."

Bruce looked toward the closed door and the voice coming from the other side of it. "Thank you, Alfred. We'll be down soon."

"Very well, Master Bruce."

Jonathan was brushing his hair when Bruce walked in. "Alfred said breakfast is ready." Bruce ran fingers through his own hair, making eye contact in the mirror.

Jonathan nodded. "Alright."

Twenty minutes later, the two sat beside each other, dressed and otherwise ready to go. Bruce practically inhaled the dishes in front of him, receiving only a few strange looks from Jonathan.

"Are we in a hurry?" Jonathan questioned.

Bruce swallowed. "There's something else I have to do before we go."

When Jonathan cocked his head in interest, Bruce provided a small explanation. "For Fox." It was enough to satiate Jonathan for the time being.

Bruce pressed a small kiss to Jonathan's head as stood and passed out of the room. "I'll be back down in time to go."

Jonathan finished eating alone.

"Are you sure you don't need anything else?" Bruce questioned his seriously as Jonathan opened his car door.

"I have everything, Bruce. I'll be fine." Jonathan soothed.

"When should I pick you up?"

"I'm done at four."

"I'll be here then."

Jonathan knew better by now than to ask if Bruce had hours. He closed his door and walked around to the driver's side, stepping up onto the sidewalk. He turned to the car and Bruce rolled down his window. Jonathan placed on hand on the window frame and leaned in to gently kiss the billionaire.

"I'll see you then." Jonathan murmured as he straightened and turned.

If the woman passing by looked at him oddly, Jonathan did not notice. He walked straight into the library and did not look back.

"Good morning!" The librarian greeted him warmly. "Jonathan, correct?"

"Yes." Jonathan nodded.

"My name is Leslie. If you have any questions, feel free to ask." The woman extended a hand.

Jonathan shook it lightly. She retracted it, automatically fixing the wire-rim glasses perched on her nose.

"Thank you." Jonathan gave a small nod and walked to his room.

For a moment he was very nearly overwhelmed. He looked around the room at the many tomes, the innumerable stacks and shelves of papers, then at the computer terminal perched precariously on the table in the corner of the room.

He instinctively pushed his sleeves back from his wrists, just enough that they no longer reached his hands, and reached for the first pile.


	11. Chapter 11

Jonathan pushed the glasses further up his nose as he scanned over the paper. The words blurred together for a moment. He blinked and the letters returned to their proper positions. He shook his head and set the paper aside.

A quick glance at the clock told him that Bruce would be arriving soon. He looked around the room despairingly, feeling he should have finished more in the hours he had spent working.

_It's too late now._ He regretted.  _I'll have to do more tomorrow._

He made that promised just as an unfamiliar man walked into the room. "Can I help you?" Jonathan asked with the utmost politeness.

"Is this where I can find records of Arkham Asylum?"

Jonathan bristled instinctively. "Arkham Asylum releases no records to the public."

"Is that so?" The dark-haired man's face fell.

"I'm sorry. Is there anything else I can help you with?" Jonathan allowed himself a tiny smile a she saw Bruce approach, passing neatly between the shelves.

"Not today. But thank you." The man looked at the archivist once more before turning away.

Bruce and the man greeted cordially as they passed but neither stopped. Jonathan watched the man walk away as the billionaire entered the small room. He stood at Jonathan's side, looking to where the man still stared.

"Was he giving you trouble?" He asked in concern.

Jonathan shook his head. "No. He just...it's nothing."

"Are you sure?" He stared at him intently.

"I'm sure." Jonathan nodded. "Let's head home."

One long, searching look later, the Wayne heir took the other's hand in his own and passed through the library. Jonathan gave a nod goodbye to the librarians at the desk as they passed. He received small smiles and waves in response.

Bruce opened the front door and held it as the psychiatrist passed through. "Where did you park?"

"Not far. About a block away." Bruce motioned to his right.

A nod was his only response.  _Why would anyone want records of Arkham?_ Jonathan could not help but wonder.  _I don't see why they would really be useful to anyone._

"Something on your mind?" Bruce asked gently.

He gave a small shrug. A moment later, he hesitantly said. "I'm just trying to figure someone out."

"Someone at the library?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

They reached the car then, Bruce smoothly pulling open the passenger door. The other slid in, door closing neatly behind him. A moment later and his companion sat beside him, ready to go.

"He was asking about Arkham Asylum records."

"Is that unusual?" He asked in concern.

"It's not exactly usual." He left off quietly.

A quick glance over told Bruce that his friend had slipped off into deep thought. He said nothing for the remainder of the ride back to Wayne Manor.


	12. Chapter 12

"Do you see anything?"

Scarecrow shook his head silently. He had thought for just a split second that he had, but then it was gone. Nothing worth mentioning to Batman.

"Stay here for now." Batman's rasp held no room for argument.

Scarecrow went for it anyway. "Where are you going? I can't keep an eye on you if we're separated."

"I won't be long." Again, that tone of finality. Scarecrow huffed but said nothing more as the speaker ducked over the edge of the building and scaled down the side. Arms crossed petulantly as he stepped across the roof delicately to peer down the side of the building.

He saw then what Batman had seen- a group of black-clad people gathered around the open trunk of a car. It would not have been overly suspicious if not for the foot Scarecrow was certain he could see poking out of the trunk.

_I could have helped._

The bitter thought filled his mind as he watched Batman neatly knock out each person.

"When is solitude the most full?"

Scarecrow turned his head. "You again?"

"Who else would serenade your night?"

He turned around fully to see a scrawny man perched lightly on the rooftop. His outfit appeared green and black at the same time. Scarecrow could not decide which it was, or even if it were both.

"Also tell me, my Crow, when is beauty its most monstrous?"

Scarecrow had no response to the small man. The latter only shrugged. "Perhaps when you find the answers you will be able to better play our little game. For now..." a small smile crossed his face. "Say goodnight to your Bat for me."

The man stood and began to back away from Scarecrow. "Wait!" Scarecrow called.

"Yes?" His footsteps slowed.

"What should I call you?" Scarecrow demanded.

The man mused for a moment. "Haven't you yet guessed? When is intelligence at its greatest stupidity?"

"A riddler." Scarecrow muttered. He knew the other heard him when a satisfied sigh wafted across the roof.

"You may just understand someday yet!"

With that, the man was gone. Scarecrow heard the tell-tale whoosh of Batman's cape and the man was behind him.

"Are you okay?"

"Have you ever heard of a riddler?" Scarecrow avoided Batman's attempt to wrap an arm around him.  _I still could have helped._

"No." Batman shook his head. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I just received a visit from one." Scarecrow looked across the rooftop.

"We should head home." Batman said gently. "It's late."

"Not that late." Scarecrow shook his head.

"You work in the morning-"

"I'll be fine." He said sharply. A yawn ruined his declaration.

"What's wrong?"

Damn the detective. Scarecrow shook his head yet again. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Jonathan." Batman's voice was quiet, Bruce's voice.

They stood in still silence for a moment. "I'll talk at home. Let's go." Scarecrow said firmly, suddenly breaking a slightly uneasy silence.

"Okay." Batman readily agreed.

Twenty minutes and forty-one seconds later, the Scarecrow tore off his mask and Jonathan Crane threw it onto a table in the caves. Batman stood beside him, still fully dressed.

"We're home." As if Jonathan needed the reminder. "Now will you please tell me what's bothering you?"

Jonathan felt only a little imposed when he turned to face the Bat- his Bat, he reminded himself. "I would be more of a help if you didn't leave me behind on rooftops all night."

Batman blinked.  _Again?_

Jonathan continued. "I wouldn't give up going out at night with you for anything, Bruce, but why won't you let me help you? That's why I'm  _there._ Or..." He met Bruce's gaze solidly. "Do you not trust me enough?"

A small part of Batman melted. "That's not it at all." Bruce's voice slipped from beneath the cowl.

"Then what is it?" He demanded.

"I..." Batman shook his head. "What would I do if you were hurt? What if we didn't see something, what if somebody got past us and harmed you? How I could possibly..." He swallowed. "I can't risk it. I feel so much better knowing that you're safe."

"The same man stopped for a visit tonight as before." Jonathan crossed his arms. "Anyone could be up there at night. We could miss something or someone. And when you leave me alone, I don't see how that is any safer than being at your side."

Batman was silent a moment before Jonathan was wrapped in strong blackness. His face pressed against surprisingly warm Kevlar.

"I just want you safe." The voice was shattered glass strewn across the floor, broken and bleeding and vulnerable. "Maybe I haven't it clear enough, Jonathan. I can't let anything happen to you. But..." He hesitated. "If you want that badly to try, then I'm willing to do it."

Jonathan would have been lying if he said he did not feel a slight thrill of victory. He lifted his head and looked to the Bat's eyes. A tiny, gentle smile danced across his lips before he pressed them to Batman's own.

He pulled back only a centimeter before whispering. "Thank you."

"Anything for you." Batman murmured.

Jonathan pressed into black material. "Anything?"

"Anything."

A genuine smile- and blush- crept onto Jonathan's face.

"Then I have a ...a request."

Batman listened in growing interest as Jonathan spoke. Yes, Batman liked that request...he liked it very much, indeed.


	13. Chapter 13

Jonathan twisted into Batman's cape as the man wrapped his arms around him. He pressed a soft kiss against the bare face, nuzzling against the only flesh he could see. Strong Kevlar enveloped him, lifting him to his chest and off of the floor. Batman carried him the few feet to his worktable. One arm left Jonathan to sweep across the table, knocking newly-created batarangs to to the floor. He lay Jonathan on the cold metal and bent over to press his lips to the other man's. The vigilante's hands smoothed down the black suit beneath him before swiftly undoing his pants. Jonathan raised his hips and Batman slid the black fabric off of the former.

"Let me protect you." Batman growled in Jonathan's ear. "Let me watch over you."

Jonathan's fingers twisted into Batman's cape. "Let me help you, then." He whispered. "Let me follow you everywhere at night and help you."

Batman pulled down black boxers and fingers gently brushed across Jonathan's soft cock. "I can't let anything hurt you."

Legs spread invitingly. Black-clad fingers traced the tender entrance. "So keep me close." Jonathan breathed.

Batman's other hand undid Jonathan's shirt and slid it off as far as he could. Jonathan sat up to shed the fabric before laying back comfortably, legs curling around Batman's waist, holding tight onto his only support.

"I can't place you in danger." Batman growled as one gloved finger presses lightly against the inviting entrance.

"And you can enter it alone?" Jonathan moaned as the vigilante pressed forward.

"If it will keep you and Gotham safe."

Moans escaped pink lips as the Bat forced his first finger into his psychiatrist. Jonathan very keenly felt the slick black fabric, a new sensation against his most intimate flesh. Another hand dances lightly over the growing arousal in front of him, fabric gently fluttering over Jonathan's skin. He leaned down to kiss Jonathan's cheek tenderly as he continued stretching his lover.

"I..." Jonathan gasped. "What if I want to keep  _you_ safe?"

Batman allowed himself a small smile, second finger sneaking forward. He felt as Jonathan relaxed around him, gave himself over to the vigilante. The latter leaned down to run the tip of his tongue over Jonathan's pulse, tasting the sweat growing and running down his flesh. He felt as the man shuddered under his touch, instinctively pushing into him for more.

"I'm ready." Jonathan breathed. " _Batman."_

One more growl, then Jonathan watched the other man vacillate for a moment. He knew what the other was considering. "I can handle it." Jonathan murmured.

"Jonathan..." Still, he hesitated.

"Just do it."

But the Bat shook his black head. He looked around him frantically, fingers nestled still as deep in Jonathan's body as they could be. They slipped out suddenly as he raced across the cave. Jonathan sat up and watched the man rummage through a drawer. He left it open as he hurried back to his waiting lover.

"Sorry." Batman murmured.

Jonathan sat still and looked over the caped crusader. He slid from the table and took gloved hands in his own. He pulled the man along until he found clear wall. He knelt before him and undid the armor before standing and giving Batman a shining smile. Batman opened the small jar and dipped in two fingers before rubbing a slick gel over his thick arousal. Jonathan wrapped his leg around the other's waist, giving a not-so-subtle hint. Batman gripped Jonathan's thighs and lifted him, holding him carefully as Jonathan wrapped his legs around his waist. Jonathan pressed against the wall.

"You keep everyone safe." Batman growled in Jonathan's ear. "You keep me rooted."

Batman pushed gently into the psychiatrist as he whispered. "Do you think I could do everything I do without someone to talk to about it? Someone to keep me from becoming the Batman completely?"

Jonathan's blue eyes were shiny as he met the other's gaze. He pressed his lips to Batman's, parting his lips to pull in a thick tongue. Batman pressed Jonathan into the wall, filling him completely. He only pulled back his head when they needed air, both taking long, rasping gasps. Fingers gripped Kevlar as Batman began thrusting steadily into his smaller lover.

"Let me keep you safe." Batman whispered again, leaning his forehead against the wall beside Jonathan's head. "I have to protect you from Gotham."

"Then let me protect you from yourself." Jonathan moaned as Batman moved  _just right._

If the wall hurt Jonathan's back, he did not say a word. Moans and pants filled the air, sweet gasps falling on Batman's ears. He loved the sound.

Jonathan reached up to grasp the cowl. Batman, foreseeing his next action, swiftly used one hand to undo the safety precautions on his suit. Jonathan removed the cowl with ease, letting the fabric fall to the floor. He gazed at Bruce, one finger tracing a line through the black paint around his eyes. It came away on his fingertip.

"I need you." Bruce murmured. "Now and forever."

Jonathan gasped as Bruce slammed into him harder and harder. "I couldn't leave you." Jonathan moaned.

"Good."

Jonathan hissed as Bruce moved forward, the psychiatrist's arousal rubbing steadily against black Kevlar.

"Oh, god..." He mumbled under his breath. "Bruce..."

"Come on." Bruce whispered. "Let go, Jonathan."

"I..." Jonathan bit off his words in a low shout as he splattered white on black. He felt as Bruce did the same inside him, filling him with liquid warmth. Bruce waited a moment before pulling out and setting Jonathan's feet to the floor. Jonathan pressed against the billionaire, ignoring the sticky now pressing against him. Kisses covered black fabric.

Bruce tore off one glove and ran fingers through dark hair. "I love you, Jonathan." He murmured.

"I...you too." Jonathan settled for.

Bruce took it. "We should shower." He said gently.

Jonathan pulled back and Bruce took a few steps away. They both eyed the white on the suit.

"That will wash off, right?" Jonathan reached out and delicately scraped at it with one nail.

"Yeah." Bruce stated it as he knew it were fact.

"And you know this for sure?" Jonathan caught the certainty in the man's voice.

Bruce had the decency to redden. "Yes." He would say nothing more on the matter but turned and headed for the showers.

Jonathan only shook his head and took his first staggering step forward. He winced in pain. He did not know he had made a pained noise until Bruce was beside him again, pulling him up and into his arms like a bride. Jonathan did not complain as Bruce carried him to the showers.

"I'll be back." Bruce pressed a kiss to Jonathan's forehead. "I have to put the suit out here. Then I'll come in and wash you, okay?"

"I can wash myself." Jonathan muttered as he turned on the hot water.

"I want to." Bruce said quietly.

Jonathan looked at the billionaire's face and gave in. "Fine."

He was rewarded with a grin before the Bat turned away and stripped as he began to walk. Jonathan looked after him with a fond smile and a head shake.

_We'll see if it makes a difference._ Jonathan could only hope Bruce remembered his words and took them seriously. He would surely find out the next time they spent the night on the rooftops of Gotham City.


	14. Chapter 14

"I called you in sick."

Jonathan looked up from his breakfast as Bruce strolled into the room. "Why? I have so much work to do-"

"You almost couldn't get out of bed this morning." Bruce cut him off. "You're exhausted. You need to rest today if you want to come out with me tonight."

He almost argued but as he went to stand and staggered back down into his chair, he felt anything he could have possibly said was moot. Besides, Bruce had already called. It was too late now.

"Are you going in to work?"

"Nah. I'm currently planning a trip to Sweden." Bruce shrugged.

"What?"

"Charity parties will be starting in force soon." Bruce explained. "So unless you want to go to all of them with me, their hosts will think we're in Sweden."

"Sweden sounds fantastic." Jonathan immediately stated.

"That's what I thought, too." Bruce sat across the table from the psychiatrist. "But we're going to have to be careful that you're not seen. If Jonathan Crane is in Sweden, the Scarecrow can't be in Gotham."

_That's one way to keep me in the shadows._ He thought irritably.  _And I thought things might change..._

"What if I..." Jonathan hesitated. Scarecrow had been a part of him for what seemed like forever now. "While we are supposed to be in Sweden, that is, what if I gained another...persona?"

The billionaire eyed him intently. "You would do that?"

"If it means I can  _help,_ then yes." He nodded.

One long breath later, "Okay."

A large grin crossed Jonathan's face. "So when are we leaving for Sweden?"

"In about two weeks. Is that enough time to come up with something?"

"Yeah." he nodded.  _It has to be._

Bruce began picking at Jonathan's breakfast. The latter pushed the plate across the table, finished and unwilling to watch Bruce go hungry because he would not get his own plate. A sincere smile flit across his face as he continued to eat. Jonathan shook his head slowly as he watched the other.  _Such a child, sometimes..._

"So what do you want to do today?" He asked after swallowing a piece of egg.

"Well, I  _had_ planned on finishing archiving obituaries today..." At the slightly fallen look on the other's face- he doubted Bruce even knew his face had changed the minutest bit- he added. "Though there was some reading I had been wanting to get to if you'd like to join me."

Bruce's face lifted again- it was small, just a light in his eyes and the tiniest of wrinkles smoothing at the corners of his mouth- and responded. "That sounds good."

Footsteps heralded the return of Alfred. "Oh, good morning, Master Wayne."

"Morning, Alfred." He smiled at his butler.

Jonathan winced as he stood properly. He knew it had not been missed by the detective sitting across from him as a worried gaze searched his face. He waved it off with a small "Bathroom." A nod was his reply as he left the kitchen.

He would be lying if he said he did not ache a little. While he would never regret what he did with Bruce the evening prior- well, that morning, really- he did have to admit he was glad he did not have to go into the library and move about that day.

He reached the bathroom connected to their bedroom and stared into the mirror a moment. His hair was growing too long, but Bruce had said he liked it. To Jonathan's shame he had let it go after that incident. He  _did_ look tired, there was no arguing that...

"Why hello."

He whirled in an arc at the voice. He frowned as he saw a familiar figure standing in the bedroom.  _Bruce really, REALLY needs better security._

"Riddler?" Jonathan stepped into the bedroom.  _How do people keep appearing? One would think a billionaire would have phenomenal security... I'm going to have to talk to him about this...and what on earth is this man wearing?_

To say the outfit was green was like saying Joker was insane. It was an understatement of the century. It took Jonathan a moment to realize that the tiny black letter-like design was actually an array of question marks.

"When is a man truly what he seems?" The man cocked an eyebrow at him.

Jonathan gave a wordly sigh. "What do you want?"

"I want you to come back out and play." Riddler said in a lyrical voice. "The cat is home but it's time for the mouse to play. The mouse's notes were revealed to him, but did he use them? Oh  _noo."_

Jonathan hissed. "Get out. I have no interest in crime anymore."

"Is that why you spend your evenings on rooftops watching it?"

"Jonathan? He heard Bruce's voice calling from down the hallway. "Do I hear someone?"

"Go." Jonathan demanded. "Find me tonight, I don't care. But go now."

Riddler stared at him for a moment before heading towards the window. He stopped for a moment and said. "Only here can I see my prison and those who fear me." He slipped out of the window.

Jonathan recognized the words immediately.  _Is that where I'll meet him? How can I when I don't know where that is?_

Bruce walked into the room, worried look on his face. "Jonathan?"

The psychiatrist looked over. "You really need a better security system. Or one at all."

The perplexed look on Bruce's face made it all worth it. Jonathan revealed the visit, keeping secret their night meeting.  _Until I figure it out..._ Jonathan swore to himself that he  _would_ figure it out.


	15. Chapter 15

Bruce looked up as Jonathan walked into the bedroom, hair dripping. It had been three uneventful days since Jonathan brought up the idea of creating an alternate persona and he had not mentioned it since.

"I can't do it." Jonathan declared.

Bruce cocked his head. "What're you- oh." It all rushed back to him then.

"I would rather come up with some excuse as to why the Scarecrow is working alongside Batman." Jonathan sat on the bed, Bruce instinctively moving to better accommodate his lover.

The billionaire looked over the solemn face. "What changed your mind?"

Jonathan hesitated. He sat silent for a moment, unmoving until Bruce drew him under the covers, nestling neatly beside him.

"Scarecrow's the only... _person_...that helped me through my childhood." Jonathan admitted in a soft whisper. "This part of me was here before you and... and will be here after...after you leave." Blue eyes stared at Bruce's shoulder rather than look at his face.

Bruce thought over his answer for a few moments, fingers working their way through Jonathan's damp hair. "Alright. We'll think of something..."

"It could be... recompense for my, ah, past crimes." Jonathan nestled his head into the crook of Bruce's neck.

"We'll make it work." Bruce promised.

"Thank you." Jonathan said solemnly.

Soft kisses pressed against dark hair. Jonathan raised his head to meet them. Bruce gently rolled them over, holding himself neatly over Jonathan. The smallest of whimpers escaped the psychiatrist, fingers grasping Bruce's shoulders.

Then a knock sounded on the door.

Bruce groaned and called out. "Yes?"

"Sir, perhaps you have been too busy to peer out the window..."

Jonathan looked firsts to see the light in the sky calling for the Bat. Bruce sighed and sat up. "How long, Alfred?"

"Thirty minutes, at least, sir."

"We're going."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

"Thanks for coming." Gordon shook his head. "It's the Narrows."

"What happened?" Batman rasped.

"There was a security breach at Arkham. It appears Quinn escaped."

"And Joker?"

"Still in his cell. But Quinn'll be back for him, we're sure."

"So we need to get to Quinn." Batman reasoned.

Gordon sighed. "I can't think of anyone who would be able to convince her of anything."

"I can."

Batman motioned to the shadows. Gordon peered into the darkness, momentarily startled when the Scarecrow slowly walked into the light.

"So you two really are working together." Gordon stared at the newcomer.

Batman growled. "Arkham deemed him cured, if you don't recall. Consider this community service."

Gordon turned his gaze on Batman. "You know the force will hold you responsible if he-"

"I know." He cut him off.

A long moment later, Gordon shrugged. "We need all the help we can get."

Batman nodded and turned away, the conversation over. Scarecrow followed.


	16. Chapter 16

"The abandoned amusement park was always a favorite hideout of hers... we should check there." Jonathan was mumbling to himself as he paced the room.

Bruce drank down the coffee Alfred handed to him and listened to the quick mutters.

"What about- no. She moved out of anything dealing with..." Jonathan stopped and stared out of the window. "We can't let her get out the Joker."

"Could she do something like that alone?"

The look Jonathan gave him stopped any further words he may have said. "You've met her. She can do it."

He continued pacing. Bruce looked over his shoulder as Alfred entered the room again, tray in hand. He set the biscuits and fresh coffee on the side table before stepping back. Jonathan joined them, taking a mug in hand. They stood in silence a short moment.

"We don't have time for this." Jonathan said under his breath into his mug as he tipped back for a drink.

The doorbell rang, the cheery tunes filling the room. Two faces wore identical confused masks. The third, simply weary.

"Expecting late-night guests, sirs?" Alfred asked drily as he exited the room.

Jonathan looked to Bruce. "Are you?"

"No."

They walked out of the room, following Alfred's footsteps. He met them in the hallway, envelope in hand. "This was left on the steps for Master Crane."

He held out the plain envelope. Written on it, just one word- Scarecrow. Jonathan swallowed thickly and reached for it. He stepped back and gently peeled it open, both Bruce and Alfred standing there attentively.

Jonathan pulled out a single sheet of paper, letting the envelope drop to the floor as he unfolded it. Blue eyes looked it over only a moment before looking to Bruce.

"I have to go."

He turned and bee-lined for the bedroom. Bruce looked to Alfred before quickly following.

By the time Bruce arrived, Jonathan was halfway into his suit. "Where are you going?"

"It's an invitation." He said emotionlessly. "I'll take care of it."

Bruce spied the paper on the bed and went for it. "Don't." Jonathan said sharply. "I have this."

Jonathan slipped on his mask and stepped to the bed, but Bruce grabbed the paper before he could. "Hey! Bruce!"

Bruce scanned the paper quickly.

_When the Bat is gone,_

_Will the Crow come out to play?_

_Only here can I see my prison_

_And those who fear me._

_You may not remember me, Doctor,_

_But plenty of others do!_

_Shall we play?_

"Do you know what this means?" Bruce read it again, trying to make sense of it. He recognized the center lines- had they not received the same lines before?

"Of course." Jonathan said shortly. "I need you to stay here."

"Where are you going?"

Jonathan shook his head. "You'll only follow." He thought for a moment. "I need your grappling gun."

Bruce hesitated. "Let me-"

"No." Jonathan stared at him through the mask. "Lend it to me or I will have to walk."

Bruce sighed but conceded. "I have a smaller one that will be easier for you to carry."

"Thank you."

_And I'm going to need my own._ Bruce led the way to the Caves.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Scarecrow clambered over Gotham's roofs with less grace than the Batman, but with no less success. He headed in the general direction of the Gotham Police Department Headquarters but with a distinct veer towards Arkham.

_My prison... probably an Arkham Inmate. Someone I never treated, but knows of my position. Those who fear me... the police force fight against criminals. So wherever I can see both buildings..._

It took his less time than expected. He looked first to Arkam, then to the GCPD. He had never realized how close they seemed from rooftop while being so far on the ground.

"I am so glad you understood." A voice sounded cheery. "It's no fun when people can't play the game."

"Riddler." Scarecrow turned to the voice.

"Excellent." The Riddler stepped up beside him. "Is the cast ready for the main performance?"

"Why the acting references?" Scarecrow questioned. It was something he had noticed, all the performance cues.

"You tell me, my detective." The Riddler looked out over Gotham. "For what is life but a play? And look at us, both in our costumes."

Scarecrow said quietly. "Ah, but I don't have a copy of the script."

He didn't expect the full laugh that escaped the other man. "Now you are catching on." He shook his head. "No, this is improvisation."

Scarecrow heard the click before he saw the gun in the other's hand. "Now. I'm sure you've questions, but let's do mine first."

He did not have time to say a word before he saw shadows move behind the Riddler. They both heard a heavy footfall. Riddler turned quickly, firing automatically. Scarecrow heard the grunt of intense pain as the shadow fell. The Riddler looked back to Scarecrow.

"And I thought we could play without the leading man. Maybe next time."

Scarecrow did not chase the Riddler as he ran. Instead he rushed to Batman's side. "What the hell were you thinking-"

His tirade was cut off as he felt the armor. More specifically, the tender, wet hole between the pieces on his stomach. "No... no."

He scrambled in his pocket for his phone. He pressed his second emergency number and held the device to his ear, other hand still on the groaning Batman.

"Alfred?" He said as soon as it picked up. "Alfred, he needs you. I need you."

"Coming, sir."

Jonathan gave their location and hung up. He gently lifted Batman's head and slipped beneath it so it rested in his lap. One hand remained pressed against the wound. The other stroked the black mask.

"You idiot." He breathed. "I told you to stay home."

"Had to make sure...you were safe." Batman hissed out.

"And now look." Scarecrow sighed. "Just stay with me."

Alfred could not find them soon enough.


	17. Chapter 17

Alfred had politely insisted Jonathan, despite his medical training, remain outside the room as he removed the bullet from Bruce and sewed shut the wound. Jonathan paced outside in the hallway until, what seemed like an eternity later, the door opened and Alfred beckoned him in.

Bruce gave Jonathan a weak smile, but Jonathan would have none of it. "I told you to stay home."

"I couldn't let you go alone."

"Now look!" Jonathan continued.

"It's not that bad." Bruce said gently.

"You won't be able to go out for a while."

Bruce winced. "I know."

Jonathan sighed and pressed a kiss to the other's forehead. "I'll watch her for you."

He was graced with a grateful smile. "I know you will."

oom.

_I know what I have to do._ Jonathan thought with a small smile.

"Go to bed." Bruce ran a hand down Jonathan's face.

Jonathan did not argue but gave him a larger smile. He turned his face into Bruce's hand and nuzzled gently. The billionaire looked around the room that served as their infirmary.

"I guess Alfred's not gonna let me leave yet." Bruce said morosely.

"I'll visit you in the morning." Jonathan promised.

Bruce glanced at the clock. "In what, seven hours?"

A small chuckle escaped him. "Goodnight."

The other returned the sentiment and Jonathan walked from the room. He grabbed his mask from where he left it on the floor. He had but one stop to make before he went out into the night.

It was almost too simple to enter Wayne Enterprises when he knew where and how. Scarecrow walked in with ease. It was even simpler to loop the security tapes so all they saw was emptiness.

He found the lab with ease. He slipped the bag from his back and hurriedly opened it to reveal his notebooks. He brought the most simplistic of his toxins- one of the few he had time to create at the moment.

Scarecrow rolled up his sleeves and began to work. Chemicals were gathered from the various storage areas, carefully measured them into flasks, and stirred.

_I don't give a damn about Gotham..._ he rinsed a beaker.  _But Bruce..._

_Bruce I care for._

"Good morning!" Bruce grinned broadly as a tired-looking Jonathan walked in. "You didn't sleep well?" He frowned.

"Nightmares." the psychiatrist lied easily.

"Ah." He gave him a sympathetic look. "Alfred will drive you into work."

"I would like to drive myself." Jonathan shook his head. "He should stay home with you. I do know how to drive a car."

"If you're sure."

Jonathan nodded and perched on the edge of the bed. "Don't hurt yourself today."

"I'll be right here." Bruce assured him.

Jonathan placed one hand on the mattress and leaned forward to press his lips to Bruce's own. He went to pull back but one hand tangled in his hair. Another landed on his cheek, holding him gently in place. A questing tongue ran against his lips which he parted eagerly.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against Bruce's mouth. "Don't strain-"

"Nothing more than this." Bruce kissed his cheek. "Wouldn't want you to be late."

Bruce dove in for one more kiss before Jonathan stood. "Just get keys from Alfred."

Jonathan nodded. "I'll be back tonight."

"Do you work late?"

"Later than usual. I have some extra work today." It was not a complete lie.

"Okay." Bruce smiled. "I'll see you then."

One final kiss to Bruce's forehead and he was our of the room.

Driving felt good after having not done so for so long. Jonathan almost regretted going so quickly to the library. He parked neatly and quickly entered the building.

Three "good mornings!" later, he stood in his archives. He supposed he had not exactly lied- he did have some extra work to do. But it certainly was not here.

He settled in for a long day of deep thought. The Riddler would pay for assaulting Bruce.


	18. Chapter 18

Four nights without sleep ran Jonathan ragged. The few hours he managed to doze were not nearly enough- thankfully, his toxin was finally complete. Though simple, it would do what he needed it to. He spent the morning of his first day off searching the attic for a nondescript hiding place. That night, he moved all the cans from the archives room in the library to their new home.

It was now his second day off and he was itching to finally find the Riddler.

"Alfred, I have to go." Bruce insisted.

Jonathan blinked out of his reverie. Yes, he wanted to find the Riddler- but at three in the afternoon, he was nowhere near haunting the streets. Instead he sat on Bruce's bed, listening to the billionaire and his butler bicker. Well, Bruce bickered. Alfred simply stated fact.

"If you return to Gotham now, you will only hurt yourself more." Alfred continued dusting the dresser.

Bruce had been moved to his own room a night ago after much arguing with Alfred- "If I'm going to be laying in bed either way, can I at least be comfortable?"- and since then has insisted he was fine enough to return to the streets.

Alfred sighed and pulled out a trump card. "You desire to go out and protect Master Crane. In this state, do you really think you could, sir? Would you not be slower than usual and unable to properly-"

"Fine." Bruce said shortly, one hand automatically going to rest on the thigh of the man laying on top of the covers beside him. "But soon."

"Yes, soon." Alfred agreed. "I would say...another three days."

"Three!" Bruce exclaimed, his hand tightening on Jonathan. "I was thinking more along the lines of one."

Alfred simply shook his head. Jonathan placed a comforting hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I'll be fine, Bruce. You concentrate on healing."

"Well said Master Crane." Alfred nodded as he exited the room, closing the door neatly behind himself.

"I worry about you." Bruce muttered in admittance.

"I know." Jonathan nestled against Bruce. "But I feel better knowing you're here resting."

"Are you sure you don't just like having Gotham to yourself?" Bruce joked.

"I care not to own Gotham." Jonathan said honestly.

One eyebrow delicately raised. Bruce wrapped his arm around his partner and rested his head on darker hair. Jonathan tucked neatly against Bruce's body, warm, but comfortably so.

"You miss her." Jonathan murmured.

"Yes." Bruce closed his eyes.

"You'll see her soon enough." Jonathan whispered.

_But first I have to get the Riddler out of the way... the streets must be safe for your return._

_I don't have much time._

Jonathan turned his head and pressed a kiss to Bruce's neck. "She'll be okay until then."

A smile turned Bruce's lips. "I know."

Jonathan inhaled deeply, taking in the scent that was just...  _Bruce._ He had no doubt he would recognize it anywhere- the smell that reminded him of nights spent between warm sheets and nights between cold buildings. But whichever it was- sheets or buildings- they were side by side.

Until now.

"Any luck?" Bruce murmured.

He hesitated a moment. "Well..."

"I understand if you-"

"I have to check on some leads tonight." Jonathan conceded.

"You need to sleep tonight." Bruce argued.

"No." Jonathan shook his head. "Not until-"

"Jonathan." Bruce said firmly. "You are running yourself to pieces."

He looked at the billionaire evenly. "I'm fine. Someone has to do this."

"The Riddler is not going anywhere." Bruce took a slender hand in his.

Jonathan looked at their hands before blue eyes searched darker ones. "Would you quit because you were tired?"

"This isn't about me."

"Yes it is!"

Bruce looked as shocked as Jonathan felt at the psychiatrist's outburst. Jonathan slid neatly from Bruce's grasp and from the bed. He stood somewhat poised at the edge of the mattress, looking anywhere but at the man in the bed.

"How?" Bruce asked quietly.

A deep sigh made its way through his throat. "You should rest. I have some work to do before tonight."

"Don't just walk away-"

"That is exactly what I am  _not_ doing." Jonathan stepped towards the door. He glanced back to Bruce. "I will not step down from his challenge."

"And you think he's challenging you?"

"Who received his letter?" Jonathan said in clipped tones before opening the door.

"Don't just-"

Jonathan walked out the door, closing it neatly behind him.


	19. Chapter 19

Scarecrow fingered the canister on his wrist mindlessly as he looked out over Gotham. He bit back an insistent yawn, trying to shake it off. He shivered as another raindrop splashed onto his shoulder. It may not be pouring yet, but it certainly looked like it would be.

He held out the grapple gun and fired, swiftly moving onto the next rooftop. He did not have the speed of Batman but he was certainly more graceful. Whereas he always believed Batman made it appear so painful, he managed to slide up and onto the roofs with ease.

He instinctively pulled his suit jacket closer around himself as the rain worsened. He knew Bruce would be at home in bed, watching the rain and thinking smugly that Jonathan really should have listened to him.

"I wondered when I would see you again."

Scarecrow turned quickly. "Riddler."

"So dramatic." The green-clad man shook his head but grinned.

Scarecrow could have laughed. He didn't.

"So how is your handsome hero?" He sounded almost bored.

"What do you want?" Scarecrow ignored the question.

The Riddler paced back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. "What do I want..." he mused.

Scarecrow watched him carefully, almost anticipating the draw of a gun. So when the Riddler moved his hands, he was alert. The man smoothed down his green suit and looked to the Scarecrow.

"I just want to play a game." Riddler grinned. "Only, I don't think you know all the rules."

When the Riddler began backing away, Scarecrow followed. "So inform me."

"Oh, but you'll have to figure that out for yourself." He shook his head. "After all, isn't that half the fun?"

Scarecrow's breath drew quickly as a laughing Riddler stepped back over the edge of the building. He ran forward, peering over to the the man running along a lower rooftop.

"Shit."

He looked around.  _Why is he contacting me? Shouldn't he be...playing...with the Bat?_

Scarecrow swayed as he fired the grapple. He wanted to follow the Riddler, but...

_But I can barely stand upright._

He headed in the direction of Wayne Manor.

"You're back." Bruce smiled broadly.

Jonathan almost missed the slide of newspaper under the pillow. Any slower and he would have. He scanned Bruce's face- terse, but hiding it well. So there was something to his dislike in the paper.

"I wasn't getting anything done." Jonathan undid his suit jacket and peeled off the wet fabric.

"Take a warm shower." Bruce suggested.

When Jonathan entered the bathroom, Bruce pulled out his newspaper once more. The headline-  _ **Harley Quinn Strikes GPD.**_

Bruce sighed and eyed the blurry photo of Harley running from the police. She had broken into the police headquarters but taken nothing. No one could figure out why she did it. They were still searching the building, top to bottom to top again.

The third page-  _ **Where is the Batman?**_

A few days and everyone begins to wonder. Bruce sighed and tucked the paper away.

He listened to the shower, trying in vain to push the newspaper from his mind. He tried instead to concentrate on the fact that finally-  _finally-_  Jonathan was resting. He grew worried when, day after day, Alfred would grimly tell him that Jonathan had been out all night, the bed laying empty for days.

The water stopped. Bruce unconsciously pushed the newspaper farther under the pillow. Moments later, a towel-clad Jonathan walked into the room. Another towel lay draped around his shoulders, catching the drops that ran from his hair down his throat.

"What have you been doing?" Jonathan began drying his hair.

"Watching the news. Reading." Bruce shrugged. "Willing my damn body to heal."

"You will." Jonathan perched on the mattress. "Give yourself some time."

"We don't have time!" Bruce exclaimed.

"Look, I'll find the Riddler and -" Jonathan tried to assuage him.

"This isn't only about the Riddler." Bruce said quietly.

Jonathan looked over the dismal face. "What do you mean?"

"Harley Quinn broke into the GPD. She didn't take a thing- or even  _do_  anything as far as they've found so far." Bruce informed him.

"Has she gone after Arkham yet?"

"Not yet." He shook his head. "We have to find her soon, though, before she does."

"No. I have to find her. You have to stay here." Jonathan countered.

Bruce huffed. "I should be out there with you."

"Soon." Jonathan murmured.

Bruce sighed. Jonathan stood and walked into the bathroom. He appeared a minute later, towels gone and boxers clinging to his hips. He crawled under the covers and nestled closer to Bruce.

"It'll be okay." Jonathan promised.  _I have you._

"I know." Bruce whispered as he took Jonathan in his arms. "Come on. Sleep for now. We can worry about it in the morning."

Jonathan reached out to switch off the lamp. They lay in the darkness, Bruce running fingers through damp hair until Jonathan fell into a deep sleep. Bruce sighed and tried to do the same.


	20. Chapter 20

At first, Jonathan thought he was suffocating.

A moment later he realized it was just Bruce, the billionaire cocooned around him. He did obviously did not need the Batsuit to be strong. When Jonathan tried to move, the other only held tighter.

"Bruce." Jonathan gripped the man's arm, shaking him. "I have to get up."

At the sound of Jonathan's voice, Bruce's eyes opened but his grip did not lessen. "What do you need?"

"Bathroom."

Bruce pulled back and Jonathan ducked out from beneath the covers. Bruce walked him enter the bathroom before looking to the dark window. A quick glance to the clock told him it was only three in the morning.

Jonathan walked back into the room and crawled back under the covers. They situated back together, Bruce holding Jonathan to his chest.

A small chuckle escaped Jonathan. "Were you having a good dream?"

The evidence of his dream pressed against the psychiatrist. Bruce shrugged slightly, shoulders sliding against Jonathan's skin. Another chuckle- then the smaller man pressed back against his lover.

"Come on then." He murmured huskily.

Bruce gently pushed Jonathan onto his back, straddling him smoothly. He leaned down to press a light kiss against Jonathan's forehead. Then he murmured.

"You need to sleep." And slid back onto the mattress.

Jonathan rolled over indignantly. "Bruce-"

"You haven't slept in four days." Bruce said softly.

"I slept last night."

"For four hours. It's not enough."

"How often do you sleep when you could be out there?" Jonathan countered.

Bruce looked away from the intense gaze. "Don't-"

"Either we do this." Jonathan interrupted, one hand going to palm Bruce's groin. "Or I go out and get some work done."

Bruce's face hardened minutely. "Jonathan..."

"I mean it." He murmured. "I can tell  _you_ want to. I'll sleep after I get home from work, okay?"

Still, he hesitated. A sigh escaped Jonathan and he wordlessly pressed himself against his lover. "Please?"

Bruce could never say no.

Jonathan's breathing deepened as he slipped back into sleep. Bruce lay behind him, propped on one arm, free hand running smoothly up and down Jonathan's arm. The psychiatrist unconsciously nestled further into his hold.

_He's going to get himself killed if he keeps this up._ Bruce frowned.

He knew Jonathan would never listen to his pleas for the man to just _take a break._ Bruce understood, he really did- would he rest when masked villains scoured his city?- but that did not stop him from holding his double standards.

Any thoughts of sleep fled as he heard footsteps outside the room.  _That's not Alfred._

He carefully disentangled from his lover, holding back a wince as his healing wound stretched. He walked silently to the door just as the footsteps stopped outside. When the doorknob began to jostle, he hurriedly pressed up against the wall.

The door slowly opened, slight light from the hallway- Alfred always did believe in lights- spilling into the room. Bruce held his breath as in walked Harley Quinn.

She took only two steps before he tackled her to the ground. She let out a screech, desperately trying to break his hold. Jonathan bolted straight, looking over incredulously at the two of them.

"Harley?"

Bruce felt no weapons as he sprawled over her and she carried no bag so he let her push him off and stand. She huffed as she looked at Bruce but promptly began to ignore him. Harley walked to the bed and sat down, comfy as you please.

"I like ya, Jonny. That's why I-"

Bruce stood from the floor and made his way closer. Harley glanced over. "Sheesh. Protective one you found here. Calm down playboy. I'm not gonna hurt him." She gave Bruce the once over. "Though you better not be playboying my Jonny."

The seriousness in her voice and posture was sincere. She glared once more for good measure before turning back to Jonathan.

"You're not safe." She said quietly. "I don't know what they're planning, but it's nothin' small."

"What're you talking about?" Bruce stepped forward.

Harley barely glanced to him before leaning forward and whispering in Jonathan's ear. "Don't accept."

"What?"

"His invitation. Don't accept." Harley stood and put a finger to her lips. "I shouldn't tell ya this, but..." Her face fell. "I can't let them... well." She shook it off and headed for the window. "I'll see you around, Jonny-boy."

"Harley, wait-" but the window was pushed open and she made her swift exit.

Bruce sat on the bed beside Jonathan. "What did she say?"

"...Nothing I understood." Jonathan tucked himself further beneath the covers. "Coming to bed?"

Bruce wanted to press the issue- he truly did- but he knew Jonathan was done. Bruce crawled in with him, holding him tight.

_He can't go out alone again._ Bruce vowed he would go with Jonathan the next night, no matter Alfred's protests.


	21. Chapter 21

"You should be in bed." Jonathan slipped his mask over his head.

"I should be here with you." Bruce shook his head as he continued to dress.

"Does Alfred know-"

"Alfred doesn't control everything I do."

"Bruce, please." Jonathan took ahold of the other's hand as he went to slip on his second gauntlet. "I need you to stay-"

"Planning on meeting with the Riddler?"

Jonathan's jaw tightened. "Planning on removing him from Gotham."

"How?" Bruce asked softly.

Jonathan chose not to explain how his toxin was complete and just hiding away, waiting for him to fetch and utilize it. He turned away instead, breathing deeply.

"I can't..." Jonathan murmured. "I can't concentrate when I'm watching over you."

"Funny. That's my line."

Jonathan started as arms wrapped tightly around him. "I'll be fine." Bruce whispered.

"Fine then." Jonathan tore from Bruce's hold and stood tall. "Then let's go."

Neither of them were expecting it.

One moment they were walking along the roof of the central bank. The next, Scarecrow was in the Bat's arms as he fired his grappling gun and fled, men appearing on each rooftop, guns blazing.

"The Riddler's." Scarecrow muttered. He could see a small but tell-tale mark- each person wore a green question mark embroidered on their lapel.

Batman landed roughly, Scarecrow rolling through the impact. "Are you- shit."

Scarecrow could see why his landing was rough. Crimson ran between the plates of his suit, dripping steadily onto the rooftop. Even as they stood there, Riddler's people surrounded them.

"A message." One stepped forward. Scarecrow squinted to see her better- it couldn't be...

There was a suit over it, but he recognized Harley's suit. A tall hat of all things rested on her head, hiding her usual hat.

"Harley?" Scarecrow asked quietly.

"A message." She repeated, voice trembling. "For Jonny-boy."

Batman groaned and tried to stand. Scarecrow was immediately at his side, holding him still. It was a testament to Batman's pain that Scarecrow was able to hold him down. Harley visibly swallowed thickly, hesitating before speaking again.

"Sometimes people vanish before their time." She whispered. "What remains is but their legacy- and when the world is ready for that legacy to vanish as well, someone has to step in and do it themselves."

"What?" Scarecrow stood from his crouching position at Batman's side. "What the hell is that even supposed to-"

"You have forty-eight hours." Harley's voice quivered. "Then...time's up."

With that, the crowd dispersed as if they had never even appeared. Harley remained a second longer to murmured a hushed "So sorry, Jonny" before she was gone as well.

"Shit." Scarecrow lifted Batman to his feet, helping him limp along. "Come on, we have to get to the road... I'll call Alfred..."

Batman collapsed, nearly taking Scarecrow with him. "No! Br-Batman!"

_Not again._

_I told him not to come, I TOLD HIM._

_Alfred. Alfred please._

"Alfred!"


	22. Chapter 22

Jonathan was shaking.

Now, people shake for many reasons. He himself had made many people shake in fear. Some people, during a full cry, find themselves shaking. Laughter, too, often induces it.

Jonathan was not shaking for any of these reasons.

He was shaking in anger.

He stood in the hallway, arms crossed, fingers digging into his flesh, staring at the closed door in front of him. He had heard but one pained noise from inside, the rest either too quiet to hear or successfully bit back.

When Alfred had pulled into Wayne Manor, he and Jonathan helped the wounded man stumble into the manor. Once Bruce collapsed onto what was soon going to be become a permanent infirmary, Alfred shooed Jonathan from the room. He could see the anger curling in Jonathan- the two could fight later, but for now, he had a foolish man to repair.

It was difficult to wait, to not burst through the door and tear into his partner. Jonathan was a collected person- he had to be, working in Arkham, working with all a manner of insanity... hiding his own when he had been hit with toxin. But now his cool mask had shattered, leaving behind raw emotion.

The door opened with the tiniest of creaks and Alfred slipped out. "Now, Master Crane..."

"Is he awake?" Jonathan stepped forward.

Alfred closed the door and looked to Jonathan. "I understand your desire to-"

"No." Jonathan shook his head. "You have no idea."

A sigh. Then- "He is unconscious. He should wake up in a few hours. Until then, I suggest you clean yourself, sir."

Jonathan glanced down. His mask was discarded partway down the hallway. His suit was torn and dirtied.

He took a deep breath and nodded. He turned and headed down the hall, picking up his mask along the way. If Alfred spoke again- and he thought he heard the man's voice- Jonathan did not listen.

Showers are often cathartic. They can calm a person, help them understand something. Even for Jonathan they were a sense of peace. Perhaps it was by association- his old apartments never had the best of showers. Wayne Manor, on the other hand, was fantastic. And Wayne Manor meant Bruce, and peace.

Well, usually meant peace.

Jonathan fumed his way through a hot shower. He scrubbed mercilessly at his poor flesh, cascading himself in scalding water. Even once the water was off, the door opened, steam filled the area.

He stood in the bedroom and looked around. Again he would be alone in the bed for many nights. And why? Because Bruce could not handle waiting until his wounds were healed. He went and got himself hurt again, even after both Jonathan and Alfred demanded he stay home...

Jonathan slid on boxers and a light shirt. Bruce better wake up soon- he had a few things to say.

Jonathan opened the door boldly, stepping in and closing it behind himself. Bruce lay awake in the bed, looking over when he heard the door. His face showed pain for a moment before closing off entirely.

"Jonathan-"

"Shut it."

Jonathan strode over to the bed. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I thought I could handle it."

"You thought wrong!" Jonathan nearly yelled.

Bruce kept eye contact. "The Riddler is targeting you. And he's using Harley to do it. And you can blame me for not wanting to leave you alone?"

"Yes, I can." Jonathan shot back instantly. He paced the room, eyes always on Bruce. "What if you had died tonight, Bruce?"

"But I didn't." Bruce spread his hands, palms up.

"But if you had!" Jonathan shouted. "Did you even think about it? You would have left me alone-"

"That's what it's about." Bruce interrupted quietly.

Jonathan stopped cold. He hadn't meant to... "No, this is-"

"You should be more passionate more often. You're more honest." Bruce patted the bed. "Come here."

"No." Jonathan refused.

"Please."

Jonathan walked over and sat. Bruce reached and took his hands in his, holding tightly as he spoke.

"You're not trained like I am." Bruce murmured. "How could I not worry about you out there at night? Every night I laid here and wondered...what would I do if, one morning, you weren't here? I couldn't...I couldn't, Jonathan. I couldn't bear it."

Jonathan sighed. "I'm not the one that's injured."

"I know." Bruce looked at him with sincerity. "I'm glad for that."

Blue eyes looked away. "But-"

"No, Jonathan, no buts." Bruce murmured.

Another sigh. "You need to rest."

Bruce shrugged. "So do you."

"You'll actually heal this time before going out." It was not a question.

"I will." Bruce promised.

Jonathan stood, Bruce's hands sliding from his. "How bad is it?"

"I'll be okay."

"That's not what I asked."

Bruce looked away a moment. "I can't move my left leg. Well, I could, but..."

Jonathan shook his head. He sighed and leaned down to press a kiss against Bruce's hair. Bruce tilted his head back to meet it, lips meeting an unsuspecting pair.

A moment later, Jonathan pulled back. "Rest now."

"You too."

Jonathan walked to the door, turning the light out as he opened the door. He walked into the hallway, determination on his face.

He was done waiting. The Riddler would be gone before Bruce decided it was time to go out again, healed or not.

It was time Gotham remembered Fright Night and just who was behind it.


	23. Chapter 23

Scarecrow fingered the canister at his wrist. He looked out over Gotham, watching as cars and people scurried along the streets.

He stood on his old apartment building- the one he used when he was Dr. Jonathan Crane, Director of Arkham Asylum. It seemed, to him, a fitting place for his new beginning.

He knew what this would change. Part of his release from Arkham was based in his assurance that he would never again create toxin, that he would not even have the chemicals necessary for it. How quickly would the Asylum want to gobble him back up once he proved to not have kept his promises?

It didn't matter right now. All that mattered was the Riddler.

"I knew I would find you here."

He didn't even sigh as he turned to face the feminine voice. "Why are you here, Harley?"

She peered at him from her seat on the edge of the roof. "You're not Jonny anymore."

He stepped closer to her. "Why are you here?" he repeated.

She still didn't answer. "All that time Mistah J and I were chasing ya...you were always my Jonny."

Scarecrow snarled. "Did the Riddler send you?"

"But now..." She sounded heartbroken. She stood from her seat and closed the distance between them. "At least I don't havta regret this."

Harley looked at the Scarecrow, pulling herself tall as she said. "I have one more errand, then I get my Puddin' back. So here it is."

She handed him an envelope. Then, she turned on one heel and disappeared into the darkness.

Scarecrow opened the envelope with nimble fingers. He pulled out a fancy invitation. The green paper told him to meet the Riddler on the GCPD. Not that night, but the next.

_He won't be around that long._ Scarecrow promised himself.

He pocketed the envelope and paper and ran his fingers again along the cool metal at his wrist. It was time to find the Riddler.

Scarecrow landed in a neat crouch on the GCPD rooftop.

"Hey!"

He heard the shout before he saw the shouter. A woman with a little green question mark on her lapel stood a few yards from him, gun trained on his chest.

"You shouldn't be here until tomorrow!"

"I guess I'm a little early." Scarecrow stood smoothly.

"Hands in the air." Her voice trembled slightly.

He smiled behind his mask. "Okay."

He raised his arms, smoothly sliding his finger onto the canister and sprayed.

She coughed as the gas reached her, trying to move it aside, away from her face, with her hands. Scarecrow surged forward, through the cloud, and grabbed ahold of her. He fired his grappling gun and was gone.

"What does he have planned?" Scarecrow asked again.

The woman was shaking in her bonds, looking around the abandoned warehouse in terror. "Get it away from me!" She tried to slide along the floor away from an invisible fear. "God...get it away!"

"I will... once you tell me what the Riddler is planning!" Scarecrow fumed.

She finally looked to Scarecrow. "I won't tell."

He paced once before shouting. "Tell me!"

Her face was calm as she looked back to the corner that held her terrors. "No. Kill me first."

Scarecrow sprayed her once more before leaving the building in a rage.

He stood in an alley, hand resting on the brick wall. He could hear them- crows. Their wings overhead, their calls for death.

Scarecrow took a deep breath. They weren't real.

His other hand ran down his mask. It didn't hold an air filter. Why would Bruce have installed one when Jonathan would never access to his toxins? Scarecrow took a deep breath and continued down the alley. He didn't dare try to grapple up to the rooftops. He knew his fears better than to risk doing that.

When a crow swooped down to brush the top of his head, he ducked in a panic before hastily making his way back to Wayne Manor.

He sat on the floor of the shower for what seemed like forever. At first he could hear them rattling about the bathroom, wings beating mercilessly against the walls. Once only they silenced did he stand and peer out from behind the curtain. When the bathroom proved to be empty, he turned off the water and stepped out.

Jonathan wrapped himself in a towel, slowly taking deep breaths. He dried off quickly, dressing even more quickly.

He needed to find a gas mask that would work properly in his mask. He couldn't let Bruce see, he couldn't let Bruce know...

Bruce would find out eventually. The man was not stupid and the news would catch on. But he wanted to keep it a secret as long as possible.

He was far from ready to leave Bruce, Batman tossing him back in Arkham Asylum.


	24. Chapter 24

Jonathan Crane did not go to the library that day. He had called in, claiming an illness in the family- iw was not all that off.

Bruce did not know Jonathan did not go to work. The man had kissed him goodbye that morning,case in hand, as if it were just another day.

Scarecrow, however, did go out- to Wayne Enterprises.

He knew the schedules of every employee in his way well. There was a whole chemical department- not every chemical was safe. Scarecrow was proof of that. So, he knew, somewhere in the lab would be gas masks.

It was not that hard for him to procure one and make his way to the abandoned building where he had previously left the Riddler's henchwoman. She was unconscious when he entered, which really was for the best.

He sat down across the room from her and opened his case. He lovingly looked over the back up canisters of toxin before returning to the matter at hand. He pulled out his mask and smiled grimly, mask in one hand, gas mask in the other. He opened the mask neatly and tried to figure out how he would keep the mask properly positioned.

It did not take long for him to see that it was nigh on impossible.

It was not a huge setback. He would just have to put the gas mask on before slipping on his face.

"Of course you would come back."

The voice was his only warning and it was not enough. From the shadows emerged a horde of men and women, all in the distinctive suits. Scarecrow forced on his face, leaving the case and gas mask behind as he ran.

Yes, he ran. He was unprepared, he didn't expect this, he didn't...

"We just want to play." Someone called after him.

"Don't forget about your meeting tonight!" Another yelled.

Scarecrow ran through the alley, tearing the mask from his face. It was Jonathan that looked it at, lost as to where to stash it now that his case-

_My case._

He sighed. Jonathan leaned against the wall, blue eyes closing for a moment. He lost his case. And the mask. Fingers curled into fists, nails digging into flesh and burlap.

_Too late now._

He crammed the mask into his pocket as much as it would fit. One more long sigh and he pushed off the wall and began his trek back to Wayne Manor.

It was time for him to go meet the Riddler.

Scarecrow checked the canisters on his wrists and fixed his mask. No gas mask, but not for lack of trying. He took a deep breath and headed into the night.

" _You look like you're planning something."_

_Of course Bruce would notice something was up. Jonathan twisted his lips into what he hoped looked like a sincere smile as he responded. "Why do you say that, Bruce_? _"_

_Bruce looked over his face and shook his head. "Just a feeling."_

_Jonathan sat on the bed smoothly, reaching out for Bruce's hand. "Nothing's going on. I'm just going to bed."_

_They kissed, Jonathan holding Bruce's hand tight._

_But when Jonathan walked out of the room, he would have sworn he heard Bruce whisper. "Be careful, Jon."_

Scarecrow hid in the shadows, watching suited men and women patrol the roof of the GCPD. He could not see the Riddler.

_Is he here or elsewhere hiding_?

It no longer mattered as one woman spotted him. "There he is!"

No guns were raised, only gripped tightly. Scarecrow emerged from the shadows just as the Riddler did the same.

"We've been waiting, my leading man!" The Riddler cried to him.

Scarecrow laid one finger on the canister. He stood perfectly still, ready to lunge forward or jump back.

"Now that we are all here..." The Riddler grinned. "Let us begin."

Scarecrow heard an explosion in the distance. He looked out over Gotham, looking for the source of the noise. Just as his head turned, three of the Riddler's people leaped for him. They ran into him bodily, knocking him to the roof. One perched on him, holding him to the rough ground. The others held back no punches, fists meeting his stomach with speed.

He coughed, forcing up one arm to aim the nozzle at his assaulter. He sprayed liberally, gas spreading from his arm to the crowd of people. His attackers jumped back, coughing and trying to wave the gas away from their faces. Scarecrow stood as quickly as he could, looking for the Riddler. More minions went after Scarecrow, but his gas soon sent them spiraling to the roof in fear.

The Riddler was gone. Scarecrow looked back to the source of explosion but could find nothing.  _Isn't that the direction of the Palisades..._

He hoped not.

Scarecrow raced in their direction anyway, blinking away images as the gas began to filter through his system. He squeezed his eyes shut, standing still a moment before continuing.

_Why draw me here only to go after Bruce... what does the Riddler want?_

It took him longer than desirable to reach Wayne Manor. At first he thought it normal- then he saw the West Wing.  _Bruce's room is in the West Wing...!_

He ran immediately for the destroyed wing. "Bruce!"

"Alfred!" He shouted.

He tore off his mask and threw it to the floor as he made his way through rubble. "Bruce!"

"Master Crane!"

He turned towards the thin voice. "Alfred!"

"Do come!"

Jonathan clambered through the remains of the wing until he saw Alfred standing in the surrounding grass. Beside him sat Bruce, holding his side in obvious pain. But when he saw Jonathan, he forced himself to his feet and stumbled forward. Jonathan hurried to meet him halfway, blue eyes closing tightly at the sight he saw.

_Bruce is alive. He's fine. I'm seeing things._

But when he opened his eyes, he again saw the melting face of his lover. He blinked again in the hopes it would disappear, but no, there it was. Bruce leaned in and pressed rough kisses to Jonathan's forehead. Jonathan barely kept himself from shuddering in disgust.

"We couldn't find you." He murmured, mild accusation in his voice.

"I was out."

"I noticed." Bruce leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "I won't ask in front of Alfred. But I expect you to tell me later."

Jonathan nodded. When Bruce pulled back, his face was his own. Jonathan gave a tiny nod again and looked over the remains of the West Wing.

"What will you do?" Jonathan murmured.

"Rebuild. Until that happens we'll stay in the penthouse." Bruce sighed. "Again."

Alfred was at his side then, speaking in hushed tones. "I suggest we hurry, Master Wayne. I cannot guarantee there won't be any more assaults tonight."

Bruce nodded. Alfred looked to Jonathan. "Sir, if you will assist him to the front of the house, I shall bring around a vehicle."

"Of course." Jonathan wrapped an arm around Bruce's waist.

Alfred headed for the garage. Bruce and Jonathan looked over the damage once before walking away. Jonathan reached for his mask as they passed, gripping it tightly in one hand. He saw the look Bruce gave him, but chose to ignore it for the time being.

He would have enough answering to do later.


	25. Chapter 25

"So." Bruce crossed his arms. "Where were you?"

Jonathan had expected a few more moments. Bruce had been settled in the bed by Alfred as Jonathan showered, but now Jonathan was finished. He had barely stepped into the room when Bruce spoke.

"I was supposed to meet the Riddler." Jonathan tightened the towel around his waist.

"And did you?" Bruce asked before adding. "Come here."

"I did. And let me dress."

"Come here, Jon."

Jonathan hesitated. But he had lied to him... for all his talk about remaining honest, he had gone and broken that trust. He sighed inwardly as he turned to face Bruce. He softly padded across the floor before perching on the mattress.

Bruce reached and gripped Jonathan's arm, pulling him more onto the bed. Jonathan's towel began to slip, but when he went to fix it, Bruce simply shook his head. He let it go. Jonathan crawled forward until he sat beside Bruce, trying desperately to ignore the vulnerability that came with nudity, even in front of one who knew his body so well.  _Or maybe especially in front of..._

Blue eyes looked down at hands delicately folded in his lap. He heard Bruce intake breath, readying to speak, but no words emerged. Jonathan glanced at him from beneath dark bangs before scooting forward, resting one hand on Bruce's thigh.

"I thought I could keep him away." Jonathan murmured. "I didn't expect him to come here."

Bruce waited for Jonathan to continue. Jonathan breathed deeply before whispering. "I don't know how to fight him."

Large hands cupped Jonathan's face. He lifted his chin, looking directly into his eyes. "You wait for me."

"Bruce, I can't do that." Jonathan shook his head. "The Riddler is out there planning and I don't even know what he wants.  _He attacked you._  I am not going to just  _sit by."_

He was shut up with a kiss, Bruce holding Jonathan close. When Bruce pulled away a few inches, he whispered. "Jonathan. Listen to me. You said yourself you can't fight him. So you expect me to just let you go and get yourself hurt? You want me to lay here and hope that you'll come back?"

Jonathan hesitated. "Even if I can't take him down yet, I can stall him. I can figure out what he is doing."

Bruce sighed. "Stay here."

"I can't."

Jonathan sat still as Bruce's hand slid down his face, resisted a shiver as he passed over his throat, Bruce finally stopping to grip his shoulder. "Stay in tonight, then. There is nothing more you can do."

After Jonathan nodded, Bruce receded to stand from the bed. "Careful!" Jonathan instantly lunged toward the side of the bed, ready to catch Bruce. But the man only looked down at him fondly.

"I can make it to the bathroom."

But Jonathan watched every step just in case. When the door closed, Jonathan stood and draped the towel over a desk chair. He reached for the case holding all the clothes he had brought with him but decided against it. Instead he sat on the bed and leaned against the headboard.

Bruce returned moments later, taking longer than Jonathan would have liked to reach the bed and sit. He slipped beneath the covers and drew Jonathan close. He pressed soft kisses to dark hair, pulling the man ever closer. Jonathan hardly hesitated before crawling into Bruce's lap, carefully avoiding his tender stomach.

"Can we?" Bruce slid a hand across Jonathan's bare lap.

Jonathan tenderly ran a finger down Bruce's stomach. "Will you be okay?"

Bruce kissed him again. "I'll be just fine."

"Are you-"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure."

Jonathan nodded. He couldn't remember the last time they had gone so long with loving each other.

Blue eyes widened drastically as Bruce flipped them over. Bruce pulled down his cotton pants, leaving them pooled on the bed. He held three fingers insistently at Jonathan's lips. Jonathan looked up at Bruce, meeting his eyes as pink lips parted.

When Bruce decided his fingers were wet enough, he drew them form Jonathan's mouth with a small pop. One gently circled his entrance before pressing forward. Jonathan's breathing hitched before returning to normal, eyes fluttering shut. He simply  _felt_ again as Bruce hastily prepared him.

Bruce entered slowly but insistently, forcing Jonathan's body to take him. Jonathan released a small moan as Bruce gripped his wrists, holding them neatly over his head against the mattress. Bruce nipped lightly at Jonathan's throat.

"Jonathan." Bruce growled.

The man in question murmured his contentment. Cold ice dripped down his spine as Bruce continued.

"What are the canisters in the bathroom?"

Bruce was still above- _in-_ him. Jonathan opened his eyes to see Bruce's blank above his own.

"Nothing to worry about." Jonathan gritted out.

"Really?" Bruce leaned in to murmur in Jonathan's ear. "So if I sprayed it nothing would happen."

Jonathan grit his teeth.  _Bruce knows damn well what they are,_

"Go ahead."

Bruce felt as Jonathan's pulse raced. He drew out until he barely rested inside his lover before slamming back in. Jonathan's entire body curved into the movement,

"Should I?" Bruce whispered.

Jonathan hissed. "No. Maybe you should just fuck me."

"You're vulgar tonight." Bruce commented. "Did I find something you were trying to hide?"

"I didn't expect you to search my suit." Jonathan muttered in resignation. "You weren't supposed to see it yet."

"I noticed something out of place. Of course I searched." Bruce said with steel in his voice. "When did you plan on telling me the Scarecrow was back?"

"I did it for you." Jonathan's voice rose.

"Really? How do I know you haven't had it since the incident with the Joker?" Bruce pulled out again; back in.

Jonathan moaned and shook his head. "I just... just made it."

"Did you think about what would happen once people notice what is going on? The scarecrow is back to his old tricks. This time at Batman's side- and on Bruce Wayne's arm." Bruce picked up a steady pace. "I doubt Gordon would accept-"

"I didn't think about that, Bruce!" Jonathan cried out. "I was only thinking about stopping him!"

"Tell me you haven't used it." Bruce pleaded.

At Jonathan's silence, Bruce sighed. "How often."

"Only twice or so." Jonathan whispered.

"We can cover up twice." Bruce slammed into him, Jonathan's moans interrupting his words. "But no more, understand?"

Jonathan said nothing. Bruce growled. "Understand?"

"I did it for us." Jonathan whispered. "When he hurt you... that was everything I was scared of. Losing you when I should have been able to do something."

Bruce halted. "It wasn't that bad."

"And when it is? The Riddler tried to kill you tonight, Bruce. What if..." Jonathan swallowed thickly. "What if he had?"

Bruce's face softened. "But he didn't. And he won't."

Jonathan waited, Bruce looking deep in thought. "Your mask. It doesn't have a filter."

He shook his head. "Are you..."

"I'm fine, Bruce. It doesn't last long."

Bruce sighed. "You lied to me."

"I know."

Jonathan tried to raise his hands but Bruce held him tight. "Bruce, I..."

"Don't." Bruce bit out. "Don't lie to me again. Especially not about something like this."

"I won't-"

"Don't." Bruce murmured. "Don't promise. Just hold yourself to it. Is everything you have in the bathroom?"

He could see the conflict in Jonathan's face. "It's not."

Jonathan shook his head.

"Where is the rest?"

"Wayne Enterprises."

Bruce pulled out entirely, Jonathan releasing a small noise of malcontent. "You aren't seriously going now-" His voice, he was proud to say, was only a little panicked.

"I'm not." Bruce said softly. He hitched Jonathan's ankle over his shoulder before plunging back in. Jonathan's head flew back into the pillows, a rattling gasp escaping his mouth. Bruce had released his hands and he used that now, gripping tightly onto muscled shoulders.

"We'll go clean your mess later." It was Batman's voice that growled in his ear, sending shivers racing down his spine.

Bruce began a brutal pace, words dissolving into grunts and moans. Jonathan clutched onto Bruce as if his life depended on it- Bruce pounded him in much the same manner. He reached between them to grasp Jonathan's cock, finding it only half-hard against his belly.

"Jonathan?" Bruce asked in concern.

"It's fine." Jonathan tried to brush it off. "Just go."

Bruce slowed. "You aren't hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine." Jonathan growled, less intimidatingly than he had hoped.

"No, you're not." He murmured. "You always-"

"Bruce." The smaller man said forcefully. "I apologise if I am less than one hundred percent into things after discussing your death and my mess."

The elder sighed. "I am sorry."

"It is nothing. Just-" Bruce returned Jonathan's leg to the mattress, sliding back neatly. "Bruce! What are you doing?"

Instead of words, Bruce showed as he took Jonathan into his mouth. Jonathan let out a small moan, blue eyes sliding shut.

" _Oh."_ Jonathan breathed.

It seemed like an eternity and yet no time at all before Jonathan whimpered. "Bruce, I'm going to... to..."

Bruce swallowed everything Jonathan had to offer. Blue eyes opened and peered down at Bruce. The beginnings of a smile twisted his lips as he spread his legs in invitation. But Bruce shook his head with a soft smile. He took himself in hand, swiftly rubbing to completion. Jonathan barely kept from wrinkling his nose as Bruce sprayed his abdomen.

"I did just shower." Jonathan murmured.

"And you can do so again." Bruce responded as he made his way up the bed to kiss his lover.

Bruce pulled away and whispered. "We'll worry about everything in the morning, okay?"

Jonathan sent him a quick glare. "Fine."

One more kiss and they were headed for the showers, one with more urgency than the other.


	26. Chapter 26

Some days, Jonathan was a lucky man.

Although his plan nearly failed before it began, now that it was in motion he found it almost... too easy.

When he had gone to get up and out of bed, Bruce clung on, nearly waking up. Only his injury and night of worry kept him in sleep, allowing Jonathan to carefully extract himself from the snuggle and rise from the bed. Jonathan crept through the room, glancing to the bedside clock. Five am. How was it only five am? So much had already happened. He pushed the incredulous thought down, heading directly to the bathroom.

His suit had seen better days. But if he was very lucky, and so far he had been, this would be it's last night of work.

Suited, he carefully pulled his mask over his head. Oh how thankful he was he had grabbed it! It was worth the pointed looks from Bruce, as if he knew. Maybe, on some level. Bruce had known. Jonathan had never left anything well enough alone, why would he begin now?

Leaving the penthouse was not quite as easy as leaving the Manor. First he had to find Bruce's Batman stash, and that nearly frustrated him enough to quit. But Jonathan had come too far in this to quit because he could not find a grapple.

After he found the panic room that led to the batsuit, he wondered at how it took him so long to find it.

Jonathan was lucky tonight, oh he was so lucky. A bathroom, far from the bedrooms, had a large enough window he could crawl out of. He released the line towards the next building over, and he was out, flying through the air to the neighboring rooftop. He crawled up onto the roof, throwing himself into a roll on top. He stood up slowly, trying to re-situate. He knew where everything was compared to the Manor, but here he had to recalibrate. It took longer than he would have liked, spinning in a slow circle to peer out over Gotham City, but soon he was headed towards the abandoned building where he left last his case... and the toxins it hopefully still contained.

And oh, Jonathan was a lucky man. As soon as he entered, he saw the signs of the scuffle, of where he had been surprised and where he had kicked his case. He started there, searching quickly but intently.

One canister was left in the case. Just one, but it was enough. With one, he could take down the Riddler.

He affixed it to his wrist, fiddling for a long moment with the silver canister. He had only a few hours to find the Riddler, and... that was where his plan ended. He had to find the Riddler, and somehow stop him. The details in there were fuzzy in his mind, but deep down he knew what he had to do. And that was whatever it took. The Riddler had been drawing him out, but had attacked Bruce. Whether it was because of Jonathan's association with Bruce, or...he dared to think of the alternative.

Jonathan left the building in a grim mood. The grapple had him on top of the building in seconds, though the height did little to help his plan along. Would the Riddler and his goons still be out? What was their next step in the Riddler's plan? How was he supposed to find them?

He moved from one rooftop to another, his movements becoming smoother with practice. Before, when he was suited and out, he had felt the Scarecrow rise up in him, take control of his actions. But now he had no need to become the Scarecrow. He was Jonathan Crane, and he was pissed. Empty rooftops offered him nothing but a springboard to continue onto the next one, the hot anger in his stomach threatening to boil as minutes crawled by without any sign of the Riddler or his people. On a whim, he headed back towards the GCPD building.

Lady luck, how far in Jonathan's pocket was she?

Two black suited women still stood on top of the GCPD building, a walkie talkie in hand of the taller. Jonathan felt an emotion unfamiliar to this venture-elation. The grapple made contact with the roof, and he was off, swinging down from a slightly higher building next door. He was certainly no Batman, a difference made clear when instead of immediately lunging towards the women on his landing, he had to stagger upright before rushing forward. It was all the time the taller one needed to speak into the device in her hand.

"He's back, I repeat, the Scarecrow is back!"

Jonathan stood, one hand on his other wrist. Both women held up guns, aiming, but not moving to shoot. "He didn't expect you again so soon." The shorter said quietly.

"I'm just full of surprises." Jonathan muttered before speaking more loudly. "Is your boss coming?"

"Oh he wouldn't miss this for anything."

And she was right. They did not have to wait long before a helicopter approached, Jonathan frowning up at it as it descended. The frown turned into something almost a snarl as the Riddler appeared, hopping out from a short height before the copter rose again. Jonathan blinked against the wind, trying to keep his hand steady on his wrist.

"This is certainly an early entrance!" The Riddler's face held a wide grin. "Was our play not to your liking? Perhaps you missed your cue and are merely trying to catch up now."

"Why go after Bruce when you've wanted me?" Jonathan growled.

Riddler seemed to ponder that a moment, one hand even gripping at his chin while he thought. "One could argue Bruce's involvement was all because of you, Scarecrow."

Jonathan said nothing, just waited for the Riddler to continue. Riddler instead looked to the two women, still holding up their guns. "Go along, it's time for the leading actors to play their parts."

They hesitated, but when he turned on them with an emphatic "Go!" they hurried to the edge of the building. Jonathan watched as they began the descent on the fire stairwell before turning his attention back to Riddler.

"Why Bruce?" Jonathan asked again.

He forced himself to stand his ground as Riddler approached. "You used to be so much more, Scarecrow. I fear I can barely call you that anymore. " He laughed. "Get it, fear? You were so much, but this man has...domesticated you. You think you can be a normal Gotham citizen? No, you are meant to be in the spotlight, like me."

"That's not me anymore." Jonathan grit his teeth.

"Isn't it?" Riddler grinned, all teeth and bite. "Follow my lead!"

Jonathan started as the Riddler waved a hand above his head. The helicopter lowered, a rope ladder hanging from it. Riddler grabbed onto it as it began to ride again, moving away from the GCPD building. Jonathan stood, slack jawed, for a long moment before doing as the Riddler had commanded. He ran to the edge of the building, grappling from one to the next. After only a few buildings, chasing after the Riddler, Jonathan had a suspicion as to their destination.

His luck had run out, he supposed.

The buildings about ended before Arkham began, leaving Jonathan running through the streets. Arkham itself had only sloping roofs, nothing smooth nor flat for the novice. Perhaps Batman could do it, but Jonathan... Jonathan was out of breath by the time he reached Arkham. The Riddler stood, alone, before the mighty building.

_I implemented better security than this!_ The thought was errant, useless. Yet it ran through Jonathan's head.

Dawn was breaking, even there in the darkest part of Gotham. An unease grew in Jonathan's belly but he stayed, facing the Riddler.

"What now, Riddler?" he called out.

"Do you remember?" Riddler asked dreamily. "Do you remember who you were? You were one of the first, you know. The first to don his costume and take the stage. How we looked up to you. But now... "

"I've heard enough of this." Jonathan stepped forward, heart pounding.

"Without Bruce Wayne, you can be Scarecrow again. You can join us in the spotlight!"

Jonathan swallowed thickly. He thought his heart would leap from his chest. Riddler stood there, arms wide, staring up at the dawn. His haze turned to Jonathan, who slowly kept moving forward until they were mere steps apart.

"I can be Scarecrow again." Jonathan whispered.

A smile crept onto Riddler's face. "That's right, Jonathan Crane." He held out a hand.

Jonathan heaved in a breath. A clear, crisp air filled breath. He let it out slowly, raising his left hand to grasp the Riddler's. Oh, that look of triumph on the Riddler's face! Jonathan's grip was a vise as he yanked the Riddler forward, his right hand flying to the canister at his left wrist. He pressed down the nozzle and the toxic gas hissed slowly only a moment before it was filling the air.

"What are you- no!" Riddler tried to pull back, but Jonathan held on for dear life.

"I don't need the Scarecrow to take care of you." Jonathan grit out.

Riddler trashed in his grip, but Jonathan's work was done. He let go, stumbling back a step himself. He could hear them, the crows, soaring down from the sky to attack. Despite the fear gripping his heart, Jonathan smiled.


	27. Chapter 27

Bruce's heart was heavy when he woke up alone, hand sliding across an empty bed to find Jonathan. He groaned as he sat up, holding his head in one hand. He should have known Jonathan would not stay in, no matter his urgings. He sat there, leaning against the headboard in the new dawn's light, wondering what exactly his lover was up to. Would he return soon, now that day was breaking? Bruce hoped, for Jonathan's sake, that he had been unsuccessful in finding the Riddler.

He had barely finished that thought when the bedroom door slammed open and Alfred marched in, pale and face drawn. Bruce went to reprimand him barging in, but the words died on his lips. Alfred did not say a word as he walked to the television set on the dresser near the foot of the bed, long fingers shaking as he turned it on and quickly flipped through the channels.

Bruce did not have to ask what Alfred was so upset with. He saw it as soon as the channels stopped changing and Alfred stepped back, glancing back to Bruce in concern.

On the screen, a grim faced reporter stood in front of Arkham Asylum. A safe distance behind her, past yellow tape, well dressed doctors were tangling with two men, fearfully screaming. Bruce's heart sank right through the floor as one doctor forced the burlap mask, lovingly made by Bruce himself, off of one sweaty man's head. The mask fell to the ground, but Bruce only had eyes for the face it revealed. A sort of calm acceptance could be read on Jonathan's face, but Bruce knew him enough to know. He was trapped tight in his own nightmares, though the terror he felt could not be seen on his face.

He tried to look at the other man on the screen. The Riddler. It had to be. All he felt was a vague disgust and a deep guilt before his attention went back to Jonathan. The doctors were successfully leading him away, the camera following them as they entered Arkham Asylum.

"Master Bruce," Alfred began.

"Alfred." Bruce growled, watching the door slam on the screen. "I need to be there."

"Imagine how that will look, Master-"

"He did this for me!" Bruce roared.

Alfred blinked slowly, waiting for Bruce to calm. And he did, guilt etching itself into every line of his face. "Alfred, I'm sorry, I-"

"Not to worry." Alfred crossed the room, standing at the bedside. "But some thought and care may be appropriate."

"You're right." Bruce sighed. "What do you think I should do?

And Alfred, as Alfred always did, had a plan.

Which was not to say Bruce liked the plan. But he followed it. It was more than twelve hours later that Batman himself broke into Arkham Asylum. Moving was far from easy, and he had driven most of the way. But he could force his body to bend to his mind more than most could, and he used that to his advantage that night. Breaking into Arkham was an overall easy feat for Batman, made only slightly harder by his wounds.

Finding Jonathan in the Asylum was harder than getting into the building itself.

He eventually found his way to the secure cells, where he knew the worst of Gotham's foes were held. He silently crept past the Joker's cell, only stopping long enough to glance in and make sure the clown prince was actually there. Harley's cell remained empty, though always waiting. Batman passed the rest as quickly as he could before he found the door with Jonathan's name.

Perhaps in another life, Batman would feel guilt about his skills at breaking and entering. Tonight, those skills opened the one last door between him and Jonathan.

Jonathan sat on the floor in the corner of the room, whispering under his breath. Batman silently approached, listening closely. The strings of words meant nothing to him, but he could hear the intensity and concentration in Jonathan's voice.

"Jonathan?" He asked softly.

Batman had many regrets in his life. Things done, things not done. Events he could not possibly have altered. But this one, this jumped high on his list.

Jonathan looked up and began to push himself back on the floor, trying to hide impossibly further in the corner. "No, no, Bat Man, leave me alone, leave..." Jonathan whispered, a strained stream of words. "Bat Man, Crow Man, take your fire with you, please, oh god, please."

Regrets, Batman knew well. And now his greatest regret was forgetting that Jonathan had told him his greatest nightmare was the Batman.

What else could he do what flee the room? He locked the door behind himself, ignoring his aching body as he fled Arkham, fled the broken string of words falling from Jonathan's lips. He had barely made it into the Tumbler before he pulled the cowl from his face and sank it into his hands, the car on autodrive back to the cave. He knew he would never forget that look on Jonathan's face, nor the pure terror in his words as he begged with Batman to leave.


	28. Chapter 28

Every night, Batman followed the same path through Arkham Asylum. Every night, Batman forced his slowly healing body to hide in the shadows outside Jonathan's cell. Every night, his entire being ached to comfort Jonathan, but he knew he couldn't as long as he wore Batman's face. Crime never stopped in Gotham City, yet hours of each night was dedicated to his silent vigil in the asylum.

In the two weeks after Jonathan's incarceration, the tabloids ran amok. Every journalist wanted to write their own sleazy article on Bruce Wayne and his taste in bad boys, some musing if he would know better now, or would he find another criminal to take to bed? Alfred did his best to keep Bruce from finding the worst of these musings, but Bruce, as always, found them. Alfred had feared for anger; instead, after reading through a couple articles, Bruce dropped the last paper and smiled at Alfred across the dining table.

The city thinking the worst of him was all Bruce needed in order to finally show his own, bare face at Arkham.

He knew it was his money and donations to the asylum that led to the three guards escorting him down into the secure wing, Bruce subtly avoiding his face being seen by any of the other inmates. The Joker, in particular, was worrisome- could he figure out Batman's identity just from their relationships with Jonathan?

Bruce could hear Jonathan before he saw him, his usually clear voice muddled and slurred. Bruce's heart ached in his chest as they turned the last corner and he saw Jonathan, crouched in the back corner of his cell. The guards were speaking to Bruce, but he had ears only for the doctor muttering in fear. He recognized some of the words, some of Jonathan's fears. Crows, bats.

One guard opened the door. "You have ten minutes with him. You know we aren't supposed to do this."

Bruce entered, the door closed behind him, and it was just him and Jonathan.

And Jonathan's demons.

"Jonathan?" Bruce asked softly, slowly taking small steps across the cell.

"They fly at night, they love the smell." Jonathan mumbled.

Bruce crouched before Jonathan, frowning. "Jonathan, it's me. It's Bruce."

"Burning, eyes and manor and..." Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut, hands worrying at each other in his lap.

Tenderly reaching out, Bruce gently touched the tips of fingers to Jonathan's squirming hands. Jonathan's words froze in his throat and his eyes snapped open, unseeing but staring at Bruce.

"It's Bruce." he whispered again. "Jonathan, it's Bruce."

"Bruce." Jonathan whispered back. "Fire in the dark, secrets underneath."

"Oh, Jonathan." Bruce's hand slip forward, taking Jonathan's in his grasp. "How could you do this to yourself?"

If Bruce were a lesser man, he would have needed to step back as blue eyes shot to his, suddenly seemingly clear and bright. "Bruce." Jonathan almost sounded himself for a moment. " _Safe."_

And he was back to mumbling. Bruce's heart fell in his chest. He knew, of course he knew, why Jonathan had allowed himself to be gassed, had forced his own lungs to intake his toxin. Bruce hadn't put an air filter in the mask, and Jonathan... Jonathan had done what he thought he needed to to keep Bruce safe.

"I'm safe, Jonathan." Bruce whispered, wrapping one arm around Jonathan. "And you will be too. We'll help you."

Jonathan just kept mumbling. Bruce sat in silence, trying to make out as much as he could, until the guards told him their time was up. Bruce hesitated only a moment before pressing his lips to Jonathan's messy hair, whispering into it. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

If Jonathan understood his words, he made no motion to show it. Bruce stood and followed the guards back out. The heavy door, slamming shut, rang through the halls with a sense of finality.

But Bruce had never been one for finality.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Gotham had never had a very high opinion of Brucie Wayne, playboy billionaire. At first it had been an excellent cover for Batman. No one would think them the same person. But now, the public disgrace that was his relationship was the grace that allowed him to visit Arkham weekly, uncaring of the tabloids and sneers directed his way. There was no hiding the fact that Bruce was visiting Jonathan, but he hardly felt he had to. 

Once a week, Bruce visited Arkham and was led down to his cell. Once a week, Bruce sat on the small bed and listened to Jonathan's madness, his fears falling his lips with abandon. He wanted nothing more than to recreate the antidote for Jonathan, and he confessed this to Jonathan during one of the man's more lucid moments, but Jonathan simply looked at him with surprisingly clear blue eyes and shook his head.

“It's too late, it's too much.” Jonathan whispered.

But Bruce knew Jonathan was fighting it. He may not have the antidote, but Jonathan was fighting his own fears.

The sixth week Bruce visited, about two months after Jonathan was admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was standing with his back to the door when Bruce entered. Jonathan did not move as the door opened, nor as it clanged shut, not even when Bruce gently called his name. Bruce moved across the small room slowly, taking heavy steps so Jonathan knew where he was. 

When he reached Jonathan, he could finally hear the man muttering beneath his breath. “April eight. Fine vintage.”

Bruce's heart caught. Alfred's birthday. When had Jonathan even learned it?

“February nineteenth.” Jonathan's eyes were closed as he spoke, but he slowly opened them to turn his head and look at Bruce. 

Bruce's birthday.

“Hello, Bruce.” Jonathan turned his body towards him.

“You remember our birthdays.” Bruce wanted to say so much, but that was all that would come.

“If I focus enough on dates and specifics, I can keep them at bay.” Jonathan gave him a wan smile.

Bruce did not have to ask what “them” was. He had heard enough of Jonathan's fears to know. Instead, he gently took Jonathan's hands in his own. “And your birthday?”

“November sixteenth.” Jonathan murmured. “Though Scarecrow was born another day.” His face scrunched up, entirely unlike him. “Why can't I remember-” a cloud overtook his face and Bruce knew his distraction was allowing his nightmares to return.

“April eighth.” Bruce said quickly. “He told you?”

“I asked.” Jonathan shrugged, his face clearing again. “I asked.” 

“You know, I kept trying to ask and he wouldn't tell me for the longest time.” Bruce chuckled.

Jonathan blinked slowly, trying to keep his horrors at bay. “And the great detective couldn't find it?”

Bruce gave him a smile but no more response than that. Jonathan's face darkened, going slack as he stumbled back away from Bruce. Bruce went to hold his hands tighter but missed his chance, Jonathan withdrawing and backing away from him. He moved until he couldn't, hitting the wall solidly.

“No, no, no.” Jonathan muttered, “Go crow go bat go.”

And like that, their conversation was over. Bruce stayed there with him, listening to his muttered cries and hushed fears, until the guards came down to escort him back out. 

When he arrived back at the manor, he wandered its halls until he found Alfred. Alfred was tucked away in the library, dusting carefully, as he did almost every day. 

“Master Crane will desire a clean familiarity when he returns.” was all Alfred had said when Bruce commented on his attention to the library.

“Alfred.” Bruce called out as he spied the butler.

“Master Bruce, back so soon?” Alfred lowered the duster in his hand, turning to see the curious look on Bruce's face. “What is on your mind?”

“When did you tell Jonathan your birthday?”

Alfred stared at him blankly a moment before chuckling. “When I told him yours, of course.” A somber look grew on his face. “I take it today was a lucid day?”

“He's concentrating on dates to keep him aware.” Bruce informed him.

“You should give him some to remember then.” Alfred returned to dusting. “Surely you know every date of everything you have ever done with that young man.”

A small smile crossed Bruce's face. With some work, he could absolutely come up with important dates. “Thank you Alfred.” He turned from his butler and exited, already working through this puzzle. Anything he could do for Jonathan, he absolutely would.

He could only hope it would actually help.


	30. Chapter Thirty

“...And that was the first time I was in the coffee shop. Now, I had to look this up because you never told me, but you started working there on...”

Their first meeting.

First date.

An approximation on the first time Alfred made that dinner Jonathan adored.

Bruce sat on the little bed, reciting everything he had looked up, figured out, since last week. Jonathan repeated them all slowly after him, committing every last one to memory. They went like this, date after date, week after week, until Jonathan could map out his entire recent history in little bookmarks of their life together. 

It was four months after Jonathan was committed to Arkham that he gave Bruce a sweet little smile, so unlike his usual haughty looks that Bruce thought he must be drugged, and spoke one line quietly and calmly.

“The bats don't scare me anymore.”

Over the years, Bruce had worked so hard to keep himself and any mention of any bats, Man or fuzzy creature, separate. But in that moment, none of that effort mattered. A grin split his face as he drew Jonathan into his arms. It wasn't a cure, never a cure. But it was progress.

Jonathan sat there in Bruce's arms, murmuring dates to himself, and for the first time, Bruce felt hope.

* * *

It wasn't easy, getting someone released from Arkham. Jonathan had made sure of that during his tenure. But Bruce was tenacious, pushy, and rich, a combination that made people actually think over his demands. 

While most of the doctors involved looked down their noses at the billionaire wanting to take charge of one of their patients, it only took one actually considering it to start the process. Would Bruce provide daily check ins until the doctors deemed it unnecessary? Of course. Would Bruce be open to doctors stopping by? Of course. 

(None of the doctors would miss Jonathan Crane, once he left. Only one would ever visit Wayne Manor. Twice.)

All in all, it took almost a month for Jonathan to be released in Bruce's care. Even after all that work, nothing could have prepared Bruce for the relief that filled him as Alfred pulled the car up to Arkham Asylum for the final time, the doctors already standing outside with Jonathan.

If Bruce had tried to get out of the car any faster, he would have tripped over his own feet. As it was, a few doctors had a good chuckle at his expense. Even if he did actually care about public opinion, this one would have been ignored. He left the door open behind him, could even hear Alfred sniff his distaste. But none of that mattered now.

He didn't run. He didn't need to, Jonathan, normally composed and poised Jonathan, rushing towards him. The doctors around him reached for empty air, startled at his quick movements. When he only went for Bruce, throwing himself into open arms, they relaxed. 

Alfred himself stood from the car, passing Bruce and Jonathan to go discuss paperwork with the doctors. He had raised his charge from infancy, and knew him well. Paperwork would, as always, be forgotten.

“Bruce.” Jonathan finally spoke. “Bruce, you did it.”

“Of course I did.” Bruce huffed. “That bed in your cell was way too uncomfortable for me to sit on every week.”

Jonathan smacked Bruce's arm, but he was smiling. Smiling, open and free. “Does that mean we can go to yours?”

“Ours.” Bruce corrected. “And as soon as Alfred gets back.”

Luckily for them, Alfred was very nearly finished collecting the documents Bruce was supposed to keep on hand. He returned to the car shortly after they settled in the back, glancing in the mirror to see his charge's own smile. Open. Free.

“Let's get you both home, Master Bruce, Master Jonathan.” Alfred found himself smiling then too, though he did his best to hide it from the passengers. 

“Yes, Alfred.” Bruce clasped Jonathan's own hand in his own. “Let's go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like an epilogue for this piece and RaR will be finished! So many years after I started, but I am so glad I returned to it. Thank you all, readers old and new, for your continued support!


	31. Epilogue

It wasn't always easy.

Jonathan's lucidity for his release didn't last, though everyone had hoped it would. The very next day, Bruce awoke to find Jonathan missing from bed. He ran through the manor, Alfred joining in the search after Bruce tore through the kitchen with minimal explanation. Alfred hardly needed one. 

Together they scoured the manor. The library. The attic. Bruce would never admit to the nervousness that settled in his belly when he checked the cave. But Jonathan was nowhere to be found. Bruce stood there in the cave, listening to the dripping water and flying bats, mentally recapping where he had looked. Where Jonathan could possibly be.

That was when Alfred called down. He had found him.

Bruce ran outright, racing back up into the manor. He only paused by Alfred's side, listening half a second before he was off again. Back to the beginning, back to his bedroom. He slowed at the door, controlling his breathing as he entered the room and crouched down beside the bed. 

“Leave him, Crowman.” Jonathan lay curled up under the bed, his back to Bruce. “Crow man, Crow Man.”

“Jonathan.” Bruce said softly, laying on his belly to slide under the bed. He lay behind Jonathan, speaking quietly and slowly. “Jonathan, it's Bruce. You're home, you're safe.”

“Crow man, Bruce man.” Jonathan muttered as he rolled over. “Bat Bruce Man.”

“It's just Bruce.” he whispered, gently reaching for Jonathan's hand.

Jonathan willingly put his hand in Bruce's, breathing heavily but silent for the moment. Bruce just held him as much as he could, laying there in the dark under the bed. He heard footsteps pass by once, stopping at the open door, before continuing on. 

Finally, Jonathan spoke in a calmer voice. “September 26.”

“We went to that little diner in disguise. A night out without Brucie Wayne.” Bruce said gently.

“April 12.” Jonathan whispered.

Bruce smiled. “I said I loved you for the first time.”

“Cheesy.” Jonathan's voice was soaked in disdain, but he was smiling. 

Breakfast had come and gone before they made their way out from under the bed. Bruce led Jonathan by the hand, the duo making their way to the kitchen. When they arrived, Alfred was patiently waiting, prepared to finish their meal.

“Good morning, Master Crane.” Alfred cracked a small smile. “Good to see you.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Jonathan separated himself from Bruce to slide, trembling, into the chair at the small dining table. 

“Breakfast is almost ready. You are just in time.” Alfred turned back to the stove, tension leaking from his shoulders. 

Bruce sat across from Jonathan. Jonathan met his gaze, the fear fading away into clarity. Shame filled his face then, but Bruce shook his head, reaching across the table to hold his hands. 

“Don't run away from this.” Bruce said quietly. “There's no shame in...”

“In?” Jonathan prompted.

Bruce swallowed, looking away before meeting Jonathan's gaze again. “You saved me, Jonathan. Now it's my turn to take care of you.”

Jonathan's lopsided smile was unlike any he had given, before. “I'm a terrible patient.”

Plates appeared in front of them as the older voice spoke. “Luckily for you, there are two of us.”

Jonathan looked up to Alfred. “Thank you, Alfred.” He whispered.

Alfred turned and exited the kitchen, leaving the two alone. Bruce and Jonathan dove into their breakfast, ravenous. Some days weren't always easy.

* * *

Some days were easy. Some days they woke up, Bruce went to work for a few hours, and Jonathan stayed safely in the manor. Sometimes he spent the day in the library, sometimes he simply walked the manor grounds. Some days, his lonelier days, he joined Alfred for a game of chess. Alfred, who had for so long held Jonathan at an arm's length, welcomed the young man's company. Jonathan had no illusions as to why. 

But in the end, it hardly mattered. He found a friend in the old butler, and that was more than he could ever have asked. 

* * *

Some days Jonathan was bored out of his skull. He knew he was not ready, may never be ready, to join the world outside the manor. Alfred and Bruce accommodated him as much as they could, the trio finding secluded parks, buying out restaurants. Jonathan would never complain, knowing the effort they all put in. More often than not, Bruce returned home from work with new books or puzzles, anything to entertain him. 

Jonathan knew the crows would never leave him again. He would always have rough days, hiding under the bed like he was a small child. But, unlike then, he now had Bruce to hide there with him. He may have made his own hell, but someone was there to help pull him out of it. 

And in the end, Jonathan would have done it all again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little saccharine, maybe, but I felt like the boys deserved it. Not everything will be wonderful, but they deserve that hope.
> 
> I don't want to write off this little universe I've created; I'm certainly open to returning to it and writing smaller pieces. I just hope you all enjoyed this one, with all its years in the making. If you did, please let me know. If there's more in this universe you would like to see, please let me know. 
> 
> And to all of you reading through this, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Writing is joyful, but sharing it is bliss. Thank you for letting me share it with you.


End file.
